


What the Eyes See

by jazwriter



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Christmas Presents, F/F, I did that thing where they don't actually talk to each other for over half of the story, Mirandy, One part is near Christmas so it's a Christmas fic, Sorry Not Sorry, but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-27 12:37:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13248387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jazwriter/pseuds/jazwriter
Summary: Mere months after Andy becomes a reporter, the New York Mirror turns digital, and she is out of a job. Synchronicity is at work, though, and she slides into a position as a courtroom sketch artist. Guess whose divorce proceedings she gets to capture on paper...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gemstone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gemstone/gifts).



> Special Thanks to my wonderful betas, peetsden, firebird93, and DuWinter for looking this over and giving me some great feedback. I am lucky to have such great people helping me to make the story readable. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own The Devil Wear Prada or its characters. I am not profiting from this story (except through your positive comments). This story is protected through the fair use doctrine exception to Section 107 of the United States Copyright Law (Title 17 U.S. Code §107) or some such pish-posh. 
> 
> DEDICATION: to gemstone/pzexile…I told you I’d write a story for you. I hope you enjoy it. Thank you for your friendship—it means the world to me.

Prologue

Sitting under a large oak tree in Central Park, Andy doodled on the pages of a well-worn spiral notebook. It was a holdover from college, one she hadn’t used for her classes but kept since it showcased her college insignia of Northwestern on the front cover. She’d found it in a box she kept under her bed while looking for her art portfolio that morning.

For a while she thought journalism would fill the void that seemed to expand each day. The gaping maw of boredom sneered at her, whispered in her ear how she was kidding herself. She wasn’t flexing her creative muscles or even doing what she dreamed of doing. She may have loved writing for her college newspaper, but her wish to feel the same way while writing for the _New York Mirror_ remained unrealized. She’d believed she was meant to change the world through her words.

She was wrong. So wrong. She felt as if her soul were being sucked out of her while she struggled to pitch ideas and finish the grunge work assigned to her. There was no Nigel to spout tough love. No one to care whether she sank or swam. Certainly not Nate. He moved out before her first day at the paper.

In the end it didn’t matter. The paper switched to a purely digital publication, and two-thirds of the staff were let go. She was invited to submit articles on a contractual basis, but her steady paycheck was gone.

She supposed she should be writing something to submit right now, but her thoughts were scattered, too scattered to concentrate on the effects of global warming or the death of print media or life’s reality checks. So, she doodled.

She drew budding trees and blooming bushes and blossoming flowers. She drew the shadows made by skyscrapers and wandering dogs and hand-holding couples. She drew the outlines of fences and city signs and the hot dog food carts. And before she knew it, although she hadn’t indulged in this medium since coming to New York a little over two years ago, she began sketching a well-known face.

Noticing how the air was becoming chilly, Andy looked down and gasped. Familiar eyes stared back at her. A signature lock of hair and regal tilt of the head made the face unmistakable. Miranda Priestly’s eyes held a well-known inscrutable expression, and Andy didn’t know what to think.

She never allowed herself to dwell on the events that occurred while she worked for the woman. Refused to process her abrupt exit in Paris the year before, leaving Miranda and _Runway_ behind without a backward glance. Wouldn’t discuss it with anyone, not her friends, colleagues, or family. She had tucked her feelings away. This drawing pulled them forth in an unexpected way.

Closing the notebook, Andy rose from the ground, brushing twigs and leaves from her pants before gathering her belongings and making her way back to her apartment. It was time to call it a day. It was time to refocus. Time to write that article or do something—anything—to move forward. She didn’t want to look backward. Didn’t want to revisit the past. It was a waste of time, and she had no time to waste.

“Honey, I’m home,” Andy joked, placing her keys in the bowl near the door and removing her jacket. The door locked with a pronounced click, and she took the time to throw the deadbolt before looking around. The narrow hallway led into the catchall living room, where several small art pieces brightened up the walls. They were eclectic and busy, the colors coalescing into a pleasing variety of artistic expressions while complementing each other. It was like a small party filled with disparate personalities, somehow making the event much more interesting. Smiling, Andy walked through the small apartment to her bedroom and threw her belongings on the unmade bed before strolling to the kitchen. “Hey,” she said, plopping into a chair.

“Hey,” Lily responded, eyes flicking up. She was in full work-mode, studying several glossy photographs. “I was just about to text you.”

Andy hummed. She’d feared the hits to their friendship that occurred while she worked for _Runway_ would have weakened their relationship too much for them to remain close, but Lily surprised her by helping Andy deal with not only her abrupt desertion of her job but also Nate’s subsequent desertion of Andy. “What about?” Andy asked, crossing her legs as she rested her chin on folded arms.

“I have a proposition for you.”

“Oh, sweetie,” Andy said, trying to keep her expression solemn, “you know I love you, but not that way.”

“Fuck you. You’d never be so lucky.” Lily fluttered her eyelashes, and Andy chuckled. “You remember Jenny from the gallery? She works nights?”

“Sure. Long blonde hair, tattoo on her wrist?”

“That’s her. Did I ever tell you she does some side work as a courtroom sketch artist?”

“They still have those?”

“Yep. Even though media is allowed in the courtroom, judges can ban them from high-profile cases. Anyway, Jenny told me she does at least a couple a month.”

“I bet it’s fascinating,” Andy mused. “And stressful.”

“Mm. Well, here’s the thing. She strained her wrist when her girlfriend became a bit too enthusiastic in the bedroom, and she needs someone to fill in for her.”

Andy slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her guffaw. “I’m sorry. That really sucks. She must know some of the other artists, though. Right?”

“Yeah, but she doesn’t really trust them. I guess it’s a cut-throat business.”

“So what’s she going to do?”

Lily leaned toward her, and Andy got a bad feeling. Her friend only got that look in her eyes when she was about to propose a harebrained scheme. “Whatever you’re going to say, no,” Andy tried, holding up her hands to ward off Lily’s words.

“Andy, Andy, Andy. Come on. I haven’t even told you what I’m thinking.”

“It doesn’t matter. Whatever it is will be detrimental to my wellbeing. I can tell.”

“Andy,” Lily said with a sugary-sweet voice. “You’ve always been great at sketching people. You just have to go to court, take some notes, and capture an important moment each day. Take a photo of the sketch to send to the television station, and you’re done. You can always work on your articles during the dull parts of the trial, and if you like it, Jenny will start sharing her assignments with you. She wants to start pulling back a bit.”

“Why? Too many death threats?”

“Actually, kind of. She’s covered some high-profile cases. Celebrities. Some of their superfans weren’t too happy with her pictures when they felt she hadn’t done the person justice. Like that picture of Bieber that made him look like a girl.”

“That was her? I loved that picture,” Andy squawked, laughing when she saw Lily’s face. “No, I mean it. She got his features right. I think they were upset that he looked like a dick. He had that smug look on his face.”

“I can’t argue that. So, are you in? There’s a trial that starts on Monday. I guess it can be really lucrative, and I know you could use some extra money.”

Sighing, Andy nodded. “I know what I’ll be doing this weekend. Practicing my drawing. What’s the case?”

“I don’t know. With all the celebrities around here, it could be anything. It can last from a day to a month. Here’s Jenny’s number.”

“Thanks. I’ll give her a call.” Tilting her head, Andy said, “I’m surprised you suggested me.”

“Well, it’s like I said. I know how good you are at drawing people, and you have that ability to project emotion through people’s body language. Even the colors you use tell a story. I know you’ll do a good job.”


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Entering the courtroom, Andy looked around with a small smile stretching her lips. She used to watch her father litigating in the courtroom back in Cincinnati, even helped him by taking notes during some of his trials. He didn’t have high-profile cases, but it didn’t matter to Andy. The notes she took helped him prepare for the next day, and she often picked up on things he didn’t have the opportunity to observe. Those experiences would help her with this assignment. It was some criminal proceeding, and if she did well, Jenny promised to send more her way. Andy was surprised to learn just how profitable it could be. She was being paid by the local television station, and if any of the sketches were picked up by any other media, she’d receive a set fee each time. That could add up.

This case was about three twenty-somethings who broke into a celebrity’s Soho apartment and stole some jewelry, electronics, and an Oscar, of all things. The case was set to last three days, and Andy was hoping to create some good images.

She chose to sit in the second row toward the left wall, not wanting her actions to be too obvious. She would start by taking notes and then do some preliminary pencil sketches of the courtroom, the parties, jury, attorneys, and judge. She didn’t have to submit anything until the afternoon, so she would have enough time to create something once she got a feel for the proceedings.

About a dozen people claimed seats in the gallery, but no one came too close to her. She became immersed in the proceedings, allowing her hand to draw without any real direction throughout the morning. She drew several scenes, her mind formulating different ideas of what type of sketch would best capture the mood. The accused were all represented by the same attorney, and since Andy sat at an angle to them, she could see their expressions. The defendants seemed surly and bored. She could work with that.

By the time court adjourned for lunch, Andy had a number of sketches from which to choose. The assistant district attorney’s opening statement made it clear that the three defendants were caught red-handed, mentioning video surveillance, recovered stolen items, and witnesses placing them at the celebrity’s home on the night of the crime. The defense’s strategy was to show how the three affluent defendants were superfans who became carried away with the desire to be like the celebrity by immersing themselves in her belongings. According to him, they hadn’t meant to remove any items owned by the actress, but when they realized that the alarm system was active, they panicked. Andy couldn’t help but wonder whether their attorney graduated from law school yesterday, for all the good he was doing. They were guilty, everyone knew it, and it didn’t matter whether or not they forgot what was in their hands when they fled the apartment.

_How do you forget you’re holding an Oscar in your hands?_

Andy went to a nearby diner to grab a bite to eat. She snagged a booth in the back, ordering a cheeseburger before taking out her sketch pad. Reviewing what she had, she decided to complete one that showed the defendants, slouched and apathetic, while their attorney gave his opening statement, his hand waving in front of him. She included the jury, but kept their faces blurry. By the time she finished her lunch, the sketch was complete. She would do some more drawings this afternoon, but she doubted anything monumental would occur today to push this drawing aside.

After a few hours of testimony from the apartment building security guard and a person who lived in the apartment next door, the court day ended. Andy was satisfied with her work. Once out of the courthouse, she took a few pictures of the sketch she’d finished at lunch and emailed them to the television station. Rushing back to her apartment, Andy typed up an article on the trial and emailed it to the _New York Mirror_. She hadn’t recognized any reporters in the gallery, and she was hoping her former employer would accept her submission. Even though she couldn’t give them the sketch she submitted to the television station, she told them how they could get a copy. She was tempted to attach a different sketch with the article, but she worried the television station might balk at that since they were paying her to create them.

Hearing her phone vibrate, Andy checked her email. She smiled widely. The television station was very happy with her work and wanted her to continue sketching the trial. Another email popped in from the _New York Mirror_ notifying her that they would run the article on their website. Andy jumped up and twirled around, shouting, “Genius!” She did a little dance and collapsed on the couch. “Not bad. Not bad at all.”

***

The next morning, Andy set up on the same side of the courtroom gallery, ready to catch the next perfect moment. The day did not disappoint. She ended up submitting a sketch of the prosecutor holding the Oscar statuette close to the jury as she entered it into evidence. Several jurors leaned forward to inspect the inscription on it, and the three defendants stared at it as if they were hungry dogs gazing at a juicy steak. She wrote a follow up article, but it was not accepted. Instead, she was directed to submit an article after the case ended the next day.

Hearing the apartment door open and close, Andy looked up from her laptop with a grin.

“Andy, you’re running this courtroom sketching gig like a boss. Jenny’s ecstatic. Guess her peers are all up in arms. Everyone wants to know what rock you crawled out from under.”

“Thanks. I’m having a lot of fun with it. And I got an article picked up. Another one tomorrow. Looks like I’ll be able to buy food after all,” she joked.

“Always a good thing. I’m glad you’re still writing, too. At least now you can choose what to submit. Maybe it was a good thing the _Mirror_ became a digital publication.”

“Maybe.” Andy shrugged. “I guess I feared I wouldn’t be able to earn enough to cover my bills, but everything’s been falling into place. I get to do two things I love: draw and write. I’ll even have enough to take you out for a drink, a thank you for getting me the job.”

“I won’t say no to that. I’ll call Doug to see if he’s around tomorrow night. We can go to that bar on Broome.”

“Oh, yay. I’ve wanted to try it out.”

“Me, too. Maybe we’ll find some lucky studs while we’re at it.”

“No, thank you,” Andy said with a shudder. Picking up someone was not particularly attractive to her. Although her pride had smarted for a while after Nate up and left, she was over him and all that came with a boyfriend.

“Aw, come on, Andy. You haven’t dated anyone since the break up. It’s time.”

“I’m not interested in doing the whole getting-to-know-you dance. Dating is brutal here, and before you suggest it, I’m not interested in meaningless sex, either.”

“There’s nothing meaningless about a good orgasm, my friend. I know you’re Miss Independent, particularly after working for the Devil in Prada and living to tell the tale, but dating someone can be fun. It’s new and exciting. None of the bad habits are on display, and you can release a little steam. If something comes of it, great. If not, no feelings get hurt.”

Andy gave a noncommittal hum, allowing the conversation to end. She knew Lily wanted to help her, but she didn’t feel inclined to expose herself that way again. Flashing blue eyes flared in her mind, and Andy sighed. She knew it was her imagination, but her heart still hurt whenever she thought of Miranda.

Her phone rang, interrupting Andy’s thoughts. Seeing an unknown number, Andy answered it with what she dubbed her professional voice.

“Oh, hi, Jenny. How are you?”

“Feeling a bit better. I should be able to get back to work next week. I hope you don’t mind my reaching out to you.”

“No, of course not. Thanks for having me fill in. I’m having a blast.”

“Well, that’s why I’m calling. CNN is really impressed with your sketches. If it’s all right with you, I’ll give them your number to contact you for future assignments. I’m gonna let that contract go and concentrate on some of my other media relationships so I can lighten my load. It’s time to cut back.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. You can make a lot of money if you’re good. I like what you’ve done the last couple of days. I know you have a promising future in courtroom sketching if you choose to pursue it, and I can relax, knowing that I’m passing the baton to someone who has some integrity. Watch out for the vultures. Don’t let anyone rattle you.”

“I won’t. Thank you, Jenny. Really.”

“Not a problem. Keep up the good work. I’ll be looking for your drawings.”

After their conversation ended, Andy sat on the couch, staring at nothing. It felt too neat. Like she’d been maneuvered into position. _Or fate had lent a hand?_ She shook her head. Paranoia wasn’t typical for her. She may not trust as readily as she once did before moving to New York, but that was no reason to think the worst. This was synchronicity, pure and simple. It was time she attracted something good, and she needed to embrace her good fortune.

The last day of trial passed in the blink of an eye, and before she knew it, Andy was done with the case. Her last sketch was accepted, as was her follow up article on the trial. All in all, it was a great work week, and Andy was ready to blow off some steam with her friends.

They were enjoying their first drink when Andy’s cell phone rang. She dug it out of her purse and saw the number for CNN flashing. With an apologetic smile to her friends, Andy placed a hand on one ear to block out the noise and answered the call.

“We have another case for you to cover which starts next week, if you’re available.”

“Sure. When does it start?”

“Wednesday. Should take about two weeks. It’s a high profile divorce. I’ll email you the details.”

“Okay. Thanks.” Once they signed off, Andy smiled with glee. She didn’t think she’d get another assignment so soon. It amazed her how in one week she’d lost one job and gained two more. Now she was a freelance writer and a courtroom sketch artist. Rejoining her friends, she made good on her promise to buy a round of drinks.

“A toast,” Andy shouted about the noise, raising her glass. “To best friends. They open doors for us, and push us through them to new adventures. Sometimes we flail—”

Doug and Lily joined in with Andy, “but we always sail.”

Their combined laughter made Andy’s heart sing.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 2

Over the next four months, Andy was hired to sketch several types of high-profile cases. Criminal, corporate, civil, probate, family law—all were fair game. As long as a party was well-known or the case splashed all over the media, Andy had a job. She crossed paths with other sketch artists, too. Some were complimentary and gave her tips to save time while sketching. Others were downright hostile, slinging insults meant to make her feel inadequate. Andy always did her best to be polite and unassuming, believing that by not reacting to their barbs, they’d grow bored. It usually worked.

Walking out of the courthouse after a long day of drawing some Wall Street slimebags, Andy focused on joining the slipstream of pedestrians making their way downtown. It was a sweltering summer day, but the courthouse was less than a mile away from her apartment. As she dodged two gossiping teens, she heard her name shouted. Turning her head toward the street, she saw Nigel Kipling of all people, waving at her from the back of a black town car.

With a broad smile, Andy strode toward her former colleague with a bounce in her step. She’d thought of him from time to time, but after the way she left _Runway_ , she couldn’t help but believe no one would want to hear from her.

He climbed out of the car and leaned in to deliver an air kiss beside each cheek, hands gently grasping her upper arms. “Well, look at you.”

“Hi, Nige,” Andy said with a small smile. It was really good to see him. She had always dreaded a run-in with him or anyone from _Runway_ , but he seemed happy to see her. “It’s good to see you.”

“I heard about the newspaper. I’m so sorry, Six. You hanging in there?”

“Oh, thanks. Yeah. I contribute online content every so often, and I’ve become a courtroom sketch artist.”

“Nooo. Really?”

Chuckling, Andy nodded. “I know, right? I fell into it, but I’m enjoying myself.”

“Well, come out for drinks. I’ll get the girls to join us. Saturday night?”

“Sounds fun. Let me give you my number.” Andy accepted his cell phone and input her information.

“I’ll text you,” Nigel said, his eyes staring at something over Andy’s shoulder.

“Okay,” Andy said, taking that as her cue. She gave an awkward little wave and turned to go, noticing a silver Mercedes-Benz with tinted windows idling behind the car Nigel arrived in. Her heart rate sped up as she stared straight ahead and walked past it, stopping herself from wondering who was in it. She didn’t want to know. It couldn’t possibly be who she was thinking of. Life wasn’t that coincidental, and she didn’t care, anyway.

That’s what she kept telling herself. _I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care._ And if her words sounded a bit desperate even in the privacy of her own mind, well, no one could prove it.

***

Arriving at the bar Nigel texted her, Andy looked around, standing still as her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting. Noticing a waving hand, she grinned. Striding toward a small booth, Andy dodged a few boisterous guys before stopping in front of three people she never thought she’d see again.

“Six! Glad you could make it. We got some drinks.” Nigel stood up and delivered the customary air kisses. Before Andy could slide into the booth, she found herself in a tight hug.

“It’s so good to see you, Andy,” Serena said, her slight accent caressing Andy’s ear.

Andy hugged her back, pulling back enough to smile at the gorgeous woman. “It’s great to see you, too.” She stepped back, surprised when Emily stepped forward with a sniff and grabbed her.

“I can’t believe I’ve missed you, you bloody cow,” Emily muttered, causing Andy to laugh.

“I won’t hold it against you, I promise.” Andy squeezed her before letting go.

As soon as Andy was seated, they all raised a shot glass, clinking them together and tossing them back as if choreographed. 

“I looked up your courtroom sketches, and I am completely floored.” Nigel pointed at her. “How did I not know you could draw like that? We worked together for nine months, and you never said a word, even when I was bitching about Stevens’ inability to draw simple staging outlines for our shoots.”

Andy felt her face heat up. “Well, I didn’t really think about it. It was a hobby. Until it wasn’t.” She shrugged. “I hadn’t lifted a pencil since I came to New York until I was asked to fill in for another sketcher. My roommate referred me. We grew up together, so she knew about my drawing abilities and that I could do it.”

“Connections are everything,” Nigel murmured.  

“I’d seen some of the sketches in the _New York Times_ , but I didn’t think to pay attention to who the artist was. They’re really good, Andy. It makes me wonder what else we don’t know about you,” Serena said, eyebrows raised. “I felt a distinct moment of déjà vu. It was like when we saw you for the first time after your Cinderella makeover. Remember, Em?”

To Andy’s surprise, she watched Emily nod, a contemplative look on her face. “She did that a few times when we worked together.” Emily stared at Andy. “I thought I had you figured out from the moment we met, but then you’d do something to surprise me. Like giving me all that couture from fashion week.”

“Oh, well, where was I going to wear any of that? I knew you’d make use of them. After you had them taken in, of course.” Andy flashed a smile. She leaned back in the booth, happy to be with her former colleagues. She hadn’t anticipated this level of friendliness.

“It must be the alcohol talking, but _Runway_ isn’t the same without you,” Emily said. Her faced flushed, and she was quick to down another shot before looking around the bar.

“Are you still first assistant?” Andy was curious to know what was happening at _Runway_ , but she was hesitant to ask anything that would reveal how starved she was for information concerning her former boss.

“God, no. I was promoted to the art department.”

“That’s right. She’s my slave now.”

“Only during working hours,” Serena said, her hand coming to rest on top of Emily’s with a possessive air.

Andy’s eyes widened. _This is interesting._ She watched Emily’s face flush. _Very interesting._ “How long’s this been going on?” she asked, looking from Emily to Serena.

“Not long enough,” Nigel said. “I had to watch them dance around each other for months before Serena made a move. It was tortuous. Kind of like watching you and Miranda the last few months before Paris.”

_I have not drunk enough to hear this._ Andy tossed back another shot. She looked up to see three sets of eyes fastened on her. “What?”

“What? That’s your reaction?” Emily scoffed. “Not even a ridiculous denial, Andy?”

Taking a deep breath, Andy shrugged. What could she say? It hurt to think about Miranda, and even though that might have been natural right after she quit, it was eight months later. “I didn’t realize what was happening, and then I left. What more can I say?”

Nigel patted her arm. “If it makes you feel any better, she’s missed you.”

“Oh, please.” Andy waved her hand. “I doubt she even remembers who I am. I was just another assistant.”

“Another assistant,” Emily mocked. “I have never heard of an assistant who surprised her, challenged her, and interested her to the extent you did. She watched you. All the time. And after you left, she would call for you. In fact, she did it the week after Paris, and when she realized you weren’t there, her mask slipped.”

“I remember that.” Serena’s voice was quiet. “Her eyes.” She shuddered. “She looked lost.”

“Made my life hell that week, and I blame you,” Emily said, picking up a shot glass and downing it.

“Looks like we’re getting low on liquor,” Nigel said. “Be right back.” Andy smiled, watching him hop up a moment later and weave his way to the bar.

“I’m glad Nigel ran into you,” Serena said. “We’ll have to do this again.”

“I suppose I can’t stop you if you show up,” Emily said. That was as close to an invitation Andy would ever get from her.

“Aw, Em. Don’t get all soft on me,” Andy teased, giggling at Emily’s disgusted expression. She’d missed her. She’d missed all of them.

Nigel arrived with more shots, and they all raised their shot glasses for a toast. “To Andy. The one who walked away from the job a million girls would kill for and lived to tell the tale.”

“To Andy,” the others echoed. Andy felt warmth slide down her throat and throughout her chest, and she knew it had nothing to do with the alcohol.

***

After running into Nigel, it became standard for Andy to meet with him, Serena, and Emily for drinks at different hotspots. She got better at asking about _Runway_ , less anxious when Miranda’s name came up. She still felt flutters in her stomach when she allowed herself to think about the editor, but over time she learned to no longer shy away from the strong emotions such conversations evoked.

Returning home after drinks on Friday night, Andy unraveled her scarf from around her neck with one hand, as she listened to a voicemail from CNN telling her to check her email for the necessary information on her next assignment. It was another high-profile divorce case set to last two weeks, and she knew most of it would be rather boring. Nevertheless, she could expect to earn a good paycheck, and with some luck, she’d have some articles accepted. Even better, since she’d already paid this month’s bills, the extra money she made could go toward holiday gifts. Although she couldn’t compete with _Runway_ freebies, she knew her friends well enough to be frugal while personalizing the gifts she wanted to give them.

Lily’s face was the picture of surprise when Andy told her about bumping into Nigel four months ago and the subsequent regular meetings for drinks. Andy admitted, if only to herself, that she hadn’t volunteered the information because she hadn’t wanted to explain why she was grateful for the reconnection.

“I thought you hated _Runway_ and everyone there.”

“No, that was you,” Andy said, a wry smile twisting her lips. “Nigel helped me while I was there. We were friends. Emily grew on me. She has a tough exterior and a gooey interior, which is the best way to survive working in that industry. And Serena was nice to me once I settled in.”

“You mean once you started drinking the Kool-Aid.”

“Don’t be snarky. It feels good, being around them again. And it has nothing to do with fashion or clothes or any of that. I missed them, not _Runway_.” Andy leaned against the arm of the couch, tucking a fleece blanket around her cold feet. Although glad to pull out her heavy Irish knit sweaters, gifts from Grammy, she wasn’t so keen with the freezing nights. She’d be investing in some thick woolen socks the next time she got paid.

With an explosive sigh, Lily said, “Yeah. You’re right. I don’t know them, and I didn’t really know you until we became roommates. I can see why you and Nate didn’t work—you’ve changed since college. That’s not a bad thing, though, and I can see how unfair we were to you. We’re young, we’re building our future, and that’s bound to change us as we’re tested and challenged and stretched. So if you like hanging out with the _Runway_ crowd, I’m glad. Maybe I can come with you some time when you meet them for drinks.”

Andy tilted her head, staring at her friend as her eyebrows touched the sky. “Um, yeah. That’ll be fun. I think you’ll get a kick out of them.”

“Maybe. It’s occurred to me that you’re my oldest friend, and I haven’t met these people you were around sixteen hours a day for nearly a year. People you still want to be around even though you’re no longer colleagues. The least I can do is trust your judgment.”

Nodding, Andy felt relief sweep through her. She appreciated how Lily was reevaluating their friendship. Andy wasn’t an innocent party with their past arguments—she’d refused to listen to her friends’ concerns—so she was making a more concerted effort to talk through any problems that arose instead of ignoring them. _We’ve come a long way_ , she admitted to herself _._

The next day, Andy sat in her bedroom, replaying her voicemail for the third time. Distantly, she heard Lily knock on the door and open it, but Andy’s attention remained riveted to her phone, her attention focused on the details of her next assignment. A hand on her shoulder had her blinking up at her friend.

“What is it?”

“I…it’s my next assignment.” Andy disconnected the call and slouched, chewing on her lower lip.

“What’s the assignment?”

“Miranda’s divorce for two weeks.” Andy felt Lily sit down next to her.

“You don’t have to do it, Andy.”

Peering at her friend, Andy thought about the softly-spoken words. She shook her head.

“Andy, why put yourself through it? You won’t even talk about what happened. How are you going to feel seeing her every day for two weeks, staring at her for hours?”

Andy shrugged. “When else will I ever get this close to her again?”

After a pause, Lily asked, “So you want to see her again?”

When Andy looked at her friend, she saw how Lily studied her as if she were piecing together a puzzle. Andy didn’t want to have this conversation, but she had a feeling Miranda’s name would come up when they got together with Nigel, Emily, and Serena. It was better to deal with this to some extent now. With a loud sigh, Andy ran her hand over her bedspread while gathering her thoughts. “I always thought it was odd that she provided me with a recommendation after I abandoned my job. She had every right to blackball me, but she didn’t.”

She allowed their eyes to connect, noticing her friend’s serious expression. Unlike two years ago, Lily wanted to understand. That prompted Andy to continue. “Once I started working at the paper, I missed her so much, but I figured that was more missing what I knew. You might remember what a steep learning curve it was as a junior reporter.” Andy grinned. Part of what helped them grow closer was the wild stories stemming from lousy assignments.

“As the months passed and the feeling of loss remained, I reconciled myself with the realization that I missed her sharp wit, her passion, her strength. I’d never met anyone like that before, and I haven’t since.”

“From what you’ve told me, she had begun mentoring you. Is that what you miss? A sense of being seen? Of being chosen?”

Andy knew she could affirm that explanation and keep her other feelings to herself. She knew she wouldn’t, though. They worked hard to get to where they were, and Andy didn’t want to hide something so important anymore. Even though her feelings would remain unrequited, they were hers, and they were important. “That might be part of it, but no, Lily. That’s not it. I loved learning from her, but more than that, I loved watching her. I loved watching her interact with colleagues. I loved watching her with her daughters. I loved listening to the nuances of her voice, the musicality she infused in her words to get her point across. I loved watching her when she gazed out the floor-to-ceiling windows at Elias-Clarke or when she sat at her desk sifting through photographs or stood riffling through hangers full of couture, or God, even when she tilted her head while thinking.”

“You were in love with her,” Lily said, her small gasp seeming to fill the room.

“Were,” Andy echoed, her voice flat and bitter.

“You still are,” Lily corrected, her voice a near whisper.

With a sigh, Andy nodded. “I can’t shake it. God knows I’ve tried. But I miss her, Lily.” Andy looked at Lily, pleading for her to understand. “I don’t expect you to understand. You only know her by reputation, and I never told the stories that reflect her humanity. Just the disasters, and those were mostly due to my own ineptitude.”

“That’s not true—”

Chuckling, Andy cut her off. “Oh, yes it is. I didn’t know at the time. I was full of indignation, outraged by her demands, but now that I’ve been in the workforce for a few years, I get it. I had a huge chip on my shoulder, and I didn’t know a damn thing.”

“Hello, adulthood.”

“Yeah.” Andy rose from her bed. “So, I do have to take this assignment. I have to see her again. I have to collect a lifetime of images during the next two weeks because I doubt I’ll ever have the opportunity to be that close to her again, and I certainly won’t have tacit permission to stare at her for hours on end, uninterrupted. Will it be painful? Of course. Am I scared that she’ll ignore me? Yeah. Am I more scared that she’ll sneer at me, dismiss me, or look right through me? Hell, yes. But what if she does see me? What if she acknowledges me? I could live on that.”

“Oh, Andy.” Lily got up and patted her arm. “I think she might surprise you. Time will tell. Have hope.”

Nodding, Andy followed Lily out of the room. _Miranda lives on hope. I might as well, too._

Two days later Andy forced herself to stop thinking of that conversation and to focus on where she was. She sat in a large courtroom gallery, doing her best to melt into the bench. _This is ridiculous. I have a job to do. I have every right to be here._ No matter how stern her inner voice sounded, though, Andy couldn’t seem to control her instinct to hide. Her reaction made her feel vulnerable, and she tamped down her insecurities as best she could as people entered the courtroom.

Andy listened to several reporters rat-a-tatting about what they expected to witness in court, and she grimaced. This was a high-profile divorce case of the one person she ached to see but wanted to avoid. For the next two weeks she would get to stare for hours at Miranda, studying her every expression. She was terrified. And elated. After a year away from the editor’s powerful personality, Andy feared how she would react to such bounty.

People streamed into the gallery, crowding her as several sat on her bench. Andy stiffened her spine and crossed one ankle over her knee so that she could rest her drawing pad on it. She made sure not to make eye contact with anyone. She wasn’t at court to make friends. She noticed two other sketch artists setting up and grimaced. She knew they wouldn’t impact her work, but she feared they would draw derogatory pictures of Miranda. A knotted ball of anger sat against her sternum, making it hard to breathe. Grinding her teeth, Andy concentrated on sketching the courtroom.

The divorce was taking place in the largest courtroom of the building, all dark wooden panels, black leather jury chairs, and arched, cathedral ceilings. Old-fashioned chandeliers hung throughout the room, and additional light streamed in through a large window to the left of where the judge would sit. A clerk presided, hearing motions and other preliminary matters for other cases. Andy watched several attorneys crowd the bench, waiting to be heard. Some held court paperwork in one hand and a cell phone in the other, multitasking. Glancing at the oval clock above the door leading to the judge’s chamber, Andy saw that Miranda’s case would begin in fifteen minutes. That meant Miranda would arrive at any moment.

As if on cue, the hair on the back of Andy’s neck rose to attention. Andy took a deep, slow breath, cursing when the colored pencil in her hand snapped. She could hear her heart thumping, and she placed a hand over it, as if to keep it from bursting out of her chest. Not able to resist, she turned her head toward the aisle, her eyes colliding with intense blue ones.

_Stunning_. Dressed in a bold, monochromatic slate gray skirt suit, she emanated the air of professional woman like a weapon. The ensemble hugged her curves, emphasizing her beauty. The severe cut of the jacket gave a don’t-fuck-with-me vibe, and it reminded Andy of how powerful the woman was. Time had dulled Andy’s memories, but the force of Miranda’s commanding nature slammed into her awareness, robbing her of the ability to do anything other than stare.

A simple, slight nod broke Andy’s immobility, and she nodded in turn. Ice-blue eyes flicked to her hand before one side of Miranda’s lips quirked upward. And then she was passing through the gallery, guided by her team of lawyers, to their table.

The cacophony of clashing voices filled Andy’s awareness, and she blinked several times, feeling as if a wave had broken over her head. She scrabbled to make sense of the last few seconds. Looking down, she caught sight of the ruined pencil in her hand. Huffing, Andy threw the pieces in her purse.

The judge arrived, and everyone rose. It didn’t take long for the attorneys to begin arguing over motions, preliminary matters, and what should be allowed to be admitted as exhibits. Andy took notes, watching Miranda’s soon-to-be-ex huff and puff each time his attorney failed to get what he wanted. Andy smirked, content to draw the pompous man as the petulant, selfish blowhard he was. Unless something sensational occurred in court, her employer only wanted two drawings today and one drawing every day thereafter.

Andy had already blocked out some ideas for a feature article to be published next week. Her past as Miranda’s assistant had deep-sixed her attempts to pitch any news articles. The editor-in-chief had pronounced she was too biased. He agreed with her , however, that she had the inside scoop and could use it to flesh out an opinion-based article to be run while the trial was occurring. Andy was determined to let the world know how hard it was for a woman to navigate male-dominated corporate culture. How Miranda was forced to deal with unfair biases in her career while also dealing with the inherent constraints attached to a career woman who was married and had children. Andy was going to write about the obstacles Miranda had overcome to become the most powerful woman in the publishing industry.

By the end of the day, Andy wanted to punch Stephen in the face. She settled for drawing a picture of him reaching out toward the prenuptial agreement, his maw open. She dressed him in wrinkled, out-of-style clothing, an ugly tie, and slight paunch. His face sported an expression of lasciviousness—dollar signs for eyes—and Miranda’s attorneys stood on either end of his table, stern looks on their faces, while his attorney studied his notes, the top page reflecting the words “greedy” and “man-child,” and “alcoholic.” If one studied the drawing, two pointed light bulbs on the chandelier were positioned behind Stephen’s head in such a way that they could be construed as devil’s ears.

The second sketch was of Miranda, head tilted and lips slightly pursed, a pensive look in her eyes. Whereas she created Stephen with stark, thick lines and clashing colors, Andy illuminated Miranda with the sunlight which streamed in through a side window, surrounding her with soft shades of color. Andy blended the lines around the editor’s head, creating a subtle halo effect. Andy chuckled at her little joke. _Not the devil this time._

She submitted the drawings from the courthouse, standing behind a pillar for some privacy. She was curious to see what the other sketch artists submitted, but not enough to try to see them before they were published. She’d taken her own precautions to prevent anyone from seeing her finished products, including sitting at an angle, propping her drawing paper on her knee in a certain way, and closing the pad during breaks. The last thing she wanted was for another artist to steal her ideas.

As soon as she got home, she heard Lily call out to her. She veered toward the couch, where Lily sat watching a show on flipping houses. Lily stretched out her hands, making grabbing gestures. “Let me see.”

Andy handed over her drawing pad, and plunked down beside her. This had become a thing. Each time Andy had a drawing assignment, she would let Lily see the end results, and they would discuss them. Lily often provided insight regarding the tone of the sketches and how they might be interpreted. Over time, Andy learned how to anticipate what types of drawings would yield certain results. She learned how to slant public bias.

“Did you talk to her?” Lily asked, eyes on the pictures.

“Of course not. That would be unethical, given my role.”

Lily hummed, studying the sketches. “And your good versus evil motif doesn’t show any bias? These tell quite a story, Andy.” She looked up, eyebrows raised.

“He’s an asshole. They signed a prenup, and he’s still trying to get money from her. I hope he gets raked over the coals.”

“No doubt he will, both by her lawyers and you. So you two didn’t talk?”

“No,” Andy ran a hand through her hair. “But she did acknowledge me. She nodded when she first got there. Didn’t seem surprised to see me.”

“I’m sure she knew before today that you’re a sketch artist. You’ve made a name for yourself in a short period of time. Not to mention you’ve had several articles published.”

“Yeah, but that’s digital media. I don’t know whether she even looks at that.”

“Why not? She’s always on the lookout for cutting-edge fashion. Wouldn’t it follow that she keeps abreast of media in all formats?”

Shrugging, Andy unbuttoned her winter coat and shucked it off. “I guess. I hadn’t really thought about it. The difference between our job descriptions is so pronounced, I find it hard to believe that she’d look at anything I’ve done.”

“Well, even if that’s true, you have several friends who have access to her. Friends who might have called her attention toward your recent work.”

“No way to know for sure. I’m not going to ask anyone. But that reminds me. I’m meeting with the _Runway_ gang on Friday for drinks. You in?”

“I’m in. It’s time I spend some time with them. Get to know them.”

“Good.” Andy slapped her hands on her thighs and stood up. “I’m going to take a quick shower. Any ideas for food?”

“I’m making stir fry.”

“Yes!” Andy pumped her fist, smiling. She scooped up her belongings and turned toward her room. “I won’t be long.” Once in her room, she gazed at her drawing of Miranda. Lily was right. Her drawings made clear who she believed should prevail. _And I’m gonna do whatever I can to sway the public’s opinion._ Nodding her head, Andy closed the drawing pad and placed it on her bed. She would think more about the trial after dinner when she begin writing the article. For now, Andy decided to wash off the dirty residue she felt sticking to her skin after being forced to sit in the same room all day with sleazy Stephen.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 3

After a long week, Friday crawled into existence. Andy blinked in slow motion, stifling a yawn. She sat in the court gallery, set up and waiting for the day of litigation to begin. Yesterday was the last day of Plaintiff witnesses, ending with Stephen’s testimony. Andy smirked. He was decimated by Miranda’s legal team. She took great pleasure creating a drawing yesterday of his sorry ass being dragged out of the courtroom by his frustrated lawyer, the prenup left on their table with big red Xs over the words “deserving,” “pillar of society,” and hardworking.” On cross examination it came out that he often abused his corporate credit account to splurge on business trips with lavish dinners and needless, decidedly not-business-related activities. It was obvious that he was losing, and he’d be lucky not to find all his dirty laundry aired before the end of trial.

Andy wouldn’t be surprised to learn that he cheated on Miranda, but that was not introduced. _Miranda must be confident to withhold that information._ Nor had Miranda’s team exploited his alcoholic tendencies. Andy couldn’t help thinking how such revelations might cause Miranda headaches. _Better to hold those gems back unless they’re needed to beat his demands._

As with every day that week, her body hummed, brought to attention moments before Miranda entered the room. As had occurred each day that week, Andy turned her head and locked eyes with Miranda, whose warm blue eyes smiled at her today. She nodded before sweeping past, and Andy took a deep breath to settle herself. She licked her dry lips and trapped her upper lip between her teeth, feeling as if she’d drunk a double shot cappuccino. Glancing at the front, Andy was surprised to see Miranda gazing at her.

They stared at each other, Andy existing in a time warp where nothing intruded upon the moment. She didn’t even entertain the thought of looking away. To have Miranda’s complete attention, even for a few seconds, was exhilarating. One of Miranda’s attorneys touched her forearm to gain her attention, and Andy felt disappointment rip through her. Holding back a growl, Andy shook her head. It was time to focus on the job at hand, anyway.

But, oh, how she wished they could have stayed in that bubble for just a few moments more.

By lunchtime Andy was done with her sketches. Miranda’s team has already brought in two witnesses, and it seemed like Stephen’s attorney had given up, his questions perfunctory and toothless. Biting into her burger, Andy started when a person sat down across from her.

“Hello. My name is Elizabeth Conway.”

Andy recognized the woman right away. She wore a sharp navy pantsuit with thin white pinstripes and a French blue silk blouse underneath the blazer. Her dirty blonde hair was arranged in a chignon which highlighted pronounced cheekbones and robin-blue eyes. She was part of Miranda’s legal team. “Hi,” Andy said.

Her sharp gaze swept over the sketches spread before Andy, and she smirked. “Miranda will like those.”

“Oh, ah, thanks.” Andy took a sip from her water glass, waiting for the woman to tell her why she was at her table. She didn’t have to wait long.

“I’m sure you’re aware that she cannot communicate with you during the trial since it may be construed as creating bias, so she asked me to reach out to you.”

Andy nodded, scrunching her forehead. She watched Elizabeth slide a large sealed envelope, large enough to hold legal papers, toward her.

“She knows you’re writing an op-ed piece to be published in the Sunday edition for the _New York Mirror_. Did you know it’s going to be picked up by the _New York Times_ and the _Washington Post_ , too?”

Eyes widening, Andy shook her head. “Greg didn’t mention anything…”

“The agreements are informal, but I’m sure you’ll be compensated. They liked your early draft. When are you submitting the final version?”

“Tomorrow.”

“In the envelope is some information you may wish to add. Or not. Miranda is leaving it to your discretion. She’d also like to see you after the trial has ended, if you’re amenable.”

“I, yeah. Yes. Let me give you my contact information.” Andy dug out a pen and paper, scribbling her cell number and email address before sliding it across the table. Elizabeth looked at it before placing the slip of paper into her blazer pocket.

“I’ll get it to her.” She rose. “I won’t take up anymore of your time. Have a good lunch.”

“Thank you.” Andy watched the attorney strut away, weaving a path to the exit without looking back. She opened the envelope and took out a stack of papers, sorting through several legal documents. She exhaled a forceful blast of air. Prenuptial agreement, charge card statements with several highlighted line items, photographs of Stephen and different women in compromising positions, and spreadsheets of his law firm’s billable hours and expenditures spilled across the table. “Holy shit.”

The information made Andy salivate. No investigative journalist had this information, and here she was writing an op-ed with evidence to back up her most biased statements. For the rest of her lunchtime, Andy pored over the documents, taking notes and devising a plan. She wanted to thrust the killing blow to his reputation while protecting Miranda as much as possible. Although the judge wouldn’t read the article, those in the business world would. Stephen’s career was on borrowed time, and by this time on Monday, he’d be a social pariah. Best of all, Miranda would not be the one introducing such information through the courts, leaving her above the fallout. She would be viewed as a woman who trusted her husband too much, perhaps, but her integrity would remain intact.

Knowing how some media outlets questioned whether Miranda had frozen Stephen out of the marriage through lack of affection, Andy took pains to argue against such gender bias toward women in the workplace. She highlighted other powerful women whose reputations suffered due to the unfair and outdated belief that women could not be successful in business and in marriage. She listed several instances when Miranda placed family above work, and how Stephen repaid her through poor behavior while in public. Andy commented on how society’s collective upbringing of males contributed toward men’s ego-driven reactions when they earned less than a female counterpart, and how such a mindset could put insurmountable stress on a relationship. Now Andy could add the proof of his indiscretions to highlight her points. Instead of a cautionary everyman tale, this would serve as a modernized everywoman warning.

By the time Andy returned home, she was in full writer mode. She started revising the article, mind visualizing where best to add the new damning evidence against Stephen. By the time Lily returned from work, Andy was editing the article, well-pleased with the updated version. With a grin, she submitted the final copy to her editor.

“Well, you look happy,” Lily said, sinking into the armchair.

Passing the day’s sketches to her friend, Andy said, “I submitted the op-ed. I’m so glad it’s finished.” Chortling interrupted her, and Andy smiled.

“What an awesome picture of that jackass. One more week?” Lily asked, handing the sketchpad back.

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it was cut short. He’s taking a beating. He might want to salvage what little dignity he has left and settle out of court.”

“Did she give you the nod today?”

Andy hummed. “And a stare from the front table, but there’s more.”

“More than a stare that connects you across the room, uniting two hearts and removing all distractions for those few blessed moments?” Lily asked, hands clasped against her heart and eyelashes fluttering. Andy threw a pillow at her head, chuckling when it hit its mark.

“Do you want to hear or not?”

“Of course.”

Andy told her of the lunchtime encounter and the resulting revisions of the article.

“Wow. She really trusts you.”

“Well, yeah. But wait. What?”

“You could have used that information against her, too. You do realize that?”

“No. She saw the early draft of the op-ed. She knew how I slanted it, not to mention the sketches that were published this week.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t make giving you such sensitive information any less scary. She gave you proof of his indiscretions and is allowing you to provide that revelation to the masses. She gave you a copy of her actual prenuptial agreement, something no one else has. Her private credit card statements and Stephen’s incriminating documents and those compromising photographs. That was a leap of faith, Andy.”

“I don’t know that I deserve her trust, but I’m glad.” Andy picked at some nonexistent lint on her slacks. “She wants to meet with me after the trial ends.”

“That’s huge. Are you going to do it?”

“Of course. I’m riding this train to the end of the tracks.” Andy ducked as a pillow sailed past her.

“Okay, cowgirl. Just try not to throw up when she’s within range.”

“I’m not that bad.”

“Need I remind you of last Sunday night when you got so nervous you upchucked dinner? I worked hard on that chicken piccata, too.”

“No. No, you don’t. Point taken. I will try to calm down, but I might need you to talk me down.”

“One of my best friend duties. It came with the best friend membership card.”

Andy smiled, bittersweet memories taking hold. They had made those cards when they were teenagers, declaring their best friend status and listing the duties that came with such an elevated position. She still had her laminated card in her wallet.

“Yeah.” A chime sounded, and Andy saw she had a text from Nigel. “Okay, we’re meeting everyone at Da Nico’s in an hour. I’m gonna take a shower.” Andy rose and gathered her belongings, her mind switching on what to wear.

“Okay. I better figure out what I’m wearing.”

Humming her agreement, Andy left the room. She was looking forward to seeing her friends and excited to introduce them to Lily. She knew they would get along.

A couple of drinks in, Andy was reevaluating her decision to bring Lily into the _Runway_ gang, pouting while Lily told another embarrassing childhood story. The others were eating it up, and Andy had no doubt they would use these stories as ammunition in the future. A hand on her forearm switched her focus toward Serena.

“I say we have a contest of the most embarrassing childhood experience. We’ve heard several about Andy,” Serena said, squeezing her arm, “but none about us. I will go first. When I was just a _garotinha_ , I decided I wanted to play with my older brothers, but they didn’t want their scrawny little sister running behind them.”

“I have a hard time believing you were scrawny,” Lily said.

“Oh, but I was. Skinny as a pole with long limbs. I ran after them, calling for my _irmãos_ , and they tried to lose me by climbing up a tree and jumping to the next one. They were like monkeys. I climbed the tree, but I was too afraid to jump to the next tree. I sat on a branch higher than our home, and I cried. You see, I was too afraid to climb down, too. After much teasing, they got me down. To this day they call me ‘ _gatinha pequena_ ,’ which means little kitty.”

Andy grinned. It felt good hearing these stories, even when she was the one being embarrassed. She didn’t feel as if she were the butt of their jokes. She felt included. It helped to hear of their own insecurities and stories of embarrassing events. _We’re only missing one person._ As soon as the thought crossed her mind, she scoffed. She knew Nigel and Miranda were close, but Andy doubted the fashion editor would ever let her guard down in front of Emily or Serena. They were her subordinates, and Miranda’s persona kept her safe from any perceived weaknesses. Miranda would never sit in a bar telling stories of awkward encounters or embarrassing events.

It was Emily’s story that won their little game. She told a tale of taking dance lessons when she was five years old, and her first recital turned into quite a spectacle. “I simply did not want to dance. My mum captured the whole thing on video. I stood at the end of the dance line, arms crossed, in my pink tutu, frowning mightily. I did not like being told I had to dance right then. Dancing was supposed to be fun. So, I stood still while the others danced. The audience started pointing at me, smiling and laughing. At first I was well put out by all that attention, but as the song progressed I remembered how fun it was dancing to that song. I looked over at my dance mates, and I recognized the routine. Well, what else could I do but join in? But it was on my terms—when I was ready. Once I joined in, everyone broke out in applause. Naturally.”

Andy could picture the scene unfolding. “Someday you’ll have to share that video,” Andy said. Emily rolled her eyes, but a slight grin gave Andy hope.

“So, Miranda has been in an unusually good mood considering she’s in the middle of a contentious divorce trial,” Nigel said.

“I saw her looking at your sketches on the internet yesterday,” Emily added. “She was smiling. It was terrifying.” Emily’s shudder was met with light laughter.

“Andy is awesome at drawing,” Lily declared, patting Andy’s shoulder.

“Thanks,” Andy said, ducking her head. She could feel her cheeks warming up at the praise. “Stephen makes it so easy. He’s such a greedy ass.”

“Well, everyone’s pretty clear on your opinion, thanks to your drawings,” Nigel said.

“I’m sure. I’m trying to figure out how many other ways I can reflect Stephen as being the witless fool he is.”

“I happened to mention we’d be seeing you tonight,” Nigel said, a smirk on his face.

“Really?” Andy asked, attempting to appear unaffected. She knew she was fooling no one, but everyone was kind enough not to comment on it.

“She asked where we were going, and she offered suggestions for future meet ups.”

“Probably places I wouldn’t be able to afford unless I saved up a few months’ paychecks,” Emily whined.

“Oh come on, Em. You get paid more now that you’re in Nigel’s department,” Serena teased.

“No, they’re quite affordable, and I was thinking that we should invite her along next time.”

“What?” Emily squawked. “Nigel, are you barmy? Miranda doesn’t want to spend time with us! She’s our boss. She’s…” Emily held her hands up, as if exalting a goddess. “Why would she lower herself to drink in a bar with her employees?”

“Em, that’s unfair. Everyone needs to unwind, and we’ve known her for a long time. She trusts us. Besides, it’s obvious that she wants to see a certain someone in a social capacity,” Serena said, her eyes flitting to Andy with a knowing glint in her eyes.

An elbow in her side had Andy looking over at Lily, who whispered, “See. That’s proof your feelings aren’t one-sided.” Andy was afraid to believe it, but even with doubts plaguing her, she couldn’t withhold a smile at the thought of spending time with Miranda.

“There’s that megawatt smile,” Nigel said. He clapped his hands together, rubbing them while sporting a shit-eating grin. “I can’t wait to get the two of you in the same room again. I know I’m not the only one to see the heart-eyes. Lily, you’ll have to come along since you don’t know Miranda that well. You’ll be more objective.”

“I’m in,” Lily said.

Andy felt her stomach flutter. Now she had two nebulous dates when she would see Miranda in a social capacity—the first after the trial ended, according to Miranda’s attorney, and the second with her friends. For the first time, Andy felt hopeful that those two opportunities would lead to Miranda wanting to spend even more time with her in the future. 

***

When Andy woke up Sunday morning, she pulled the blankets tighter around her body, wrinkling her nose as the cold air invaded her consciousness. She groaned as her eyes traced shadows around her room. It was as if she were viewing monochrome snapshots, her room filled with varying degrees of gray. Silhouettes of her art supplies failed to reflect the vivid colors of her favorite pencils, and her purse was a dark blot against the lighter shades of gray filling the room between her bed and the door. She wondered what woke her. Even without knowing the exact time, she guessed it was still early. Light flashed beside her, and she realized it was her cell phone, indicating an incoming message. With a sigh, Andy pulled her arm out from under the covers and picked up the phone.

Squinting, Andy gasped. She had eleven messages, and it was seven o’clock in the morning. Sitting up, Andy connected to her voicemail, curious to hear who called her so early. Hearing Emily sputter about not being told on Friday made Andy giggle. Nigel. Her parents. Doug. Serena. Several news outlets. And one more message, which made Andy lose her breath. Succinct as usual, Miranda said, “Acceptable.” But, God, her voice. Sultry. Slow. Infused with warmth. Andy listened to it several times. _I’ll be uploading that to my hard drive._

Once the shock wore off, Andy rolled out of bed. As soon as she entered the kitchen, Lily greeted her. She had her laptop open, and she began to quote some of the local blogs. “This is from Teri in Brooklyn. ‘I don’t know where Andy Sachs got her information, but DAYUM! She burned that bastard, the soon-to-be ex-Mr. Priestly, hard.’ And here’s one from Vance in Soho. ‘I don’t know why Miranda ever put up with that good-for-nothing. As soon as he began cheating, I would’ve kicked that trash to the curb. No one treats the Queen of Fashion that way. I hope he goes to jail.’”

“Wow. I guess the article struck a nerve.”

“Oh, yeah. Listen to this one from CeeCee in the Upper Eastside. ‘That dude was a dud. How could he throw away the affection of the Devil in Prada and not expect to pay the price? He deserves to lose everything. And now he will.’ Ouch! From what I’ve read, everyone is on Miranda’s side. And yours. I bet you’ll get solicitations for articles from here on out from all over the place. You’ll be able to write on a regular basis, if that’s what you want.”

“Oh, I want.”

Humming, Lily said, “That’s not all you want.”

Andy rolled her eyes at the gentle dig. “I’m gonna get my laptop so I can read some of the posts.”

“Pancakes for breakfast?”

“Sounds perfect,” Andy answered with a grin. And it was. Somehow everything had fallen into place. As if being recognized for doing what she loved weren’t enough, she felt as if Miranda really saw her now. Saw who she was and what she could do. More than that—Miranda had trusted her to see beyond what the editor wanted, what she needed, and to choose what was best. Perhaps it was time for Andy to trust that Miranda would do what was best for her, too.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 4

Although the trial did not conclude early, Miranda didn’t use any of the incriminating information Andy included in the article, perhaps because she had no need. Andy was surprised Stephen didn’t settle out of court, but it was possible Miranda was unwilling to give him anything, and he was too stupid to admit defeat. When the verdict came back with a resounding, “You ain’t getting shit!” on Friday, Andy didn’t even try to withhold the broad smile that split her face. She would have whooped out loud if she thought she could get away with it. As it was, the crowd in the gallery erupted in a cacophony of conversations while reporters rushed the doors to get their copy in to their publications. Andy stayed in place, taking a few photos of her finished sketches to send to CNN.

The first picture was of Stephen dragging himself up the aisle, head hanging, coins and dollar bills spilling out of his pockets. Each coin had Miranda’s face, and each bill has a different word like “cheat,” “embezzle,” “fraud.” People gawked at him, and a child was bending toward a coin, his mother holding his hand back and shaking her head.

The second picture was of Miranda in all her glory: eyes blue as the sky, signature white coiffure, smirk in place, head tilted, hips caught in a well-known sway as she strode up the aisle. She wore a fitted aubergine dress that highlighted her figure and coloring. Andy was surprised to find she recognized it as the work of Roland Mouret, a distinguished French designer. _I guess some of the lessons I learned at Runway stuck._ Andy drew Miranda wearing an open forest-green fur coat with bell sleeves and over-sized lapels—the look told everyone that she knew what she liked and was wearing it no matter what anyone else thought. No look would be complete without her Prada heels. She looked regal and victorious and vindicated.

Once she submitted the drawings, Andy packed up her belongings and stood. It was then she noticed Elizabeth Conway waiting for her with a small smile. “I liked your article, Andy.”

Andy chuckled. “Thanks.” She made her way to the aisle and fell into step with the attorney.

“Miranda’s waiting for you in her car if you are available to see her.”

“Oh.” Andy hadn’t expected Miranda would want to see her so soon.

“But if you aren’t available, she’s glad to schedule a meeting at another time,” Elizabeth added.

As Andy processed those words, she stopped walking, cocking her head. People walked around them, but Andy paid them no mind. It boggled her mind to hear Miranda was willing to work around her schedule. She blinked several times in quick succession, astounded to find she was fighting tears. _Dramatic much?_ She chided herself. Hearing a gentle clearing of throat, Andy realized the attorney was waiting for a response. “Now’s fine,” she said with a smile and nod. They began walking down the main staircase, and Andy glanced at her clothes, fretting. She wore black Chanel pleated wool trousers and a vintage jade-green cashmere sweater she found at a designer resale shop. She had shined her Giuseppe Zanotti ankle-high black leather boots this morning, so she knew they looked good. As they made their way outside, Andy pulled on the black Rebecca Taylor winter coat she’d snagged while working at _Runway_ , but she chose not to don her green knit hat or matching gloves. _No need to look like a total dork in front of the Fashion Queen._

“Have a good evening, Andy,” Elizabeth said, a smile directed Andy’s way before she turned away.

Andy opened her mouth to ask her where Miranda was when she heard a familiar voice call her name.

“Roy,” Andy said in surprise. She should have realized he would be driving Miranda. It was nice to see a familiar face.

“Nice to see you. Ready for Christmas?” he asked when Andy got close enough.

“Just about. I have a few more gifts to get, but I have some ideas in mind. How about you?”

“All set, thanks to the missus. She takes care of most of it. Well, if I don’t see you beforehand, happy holidays.” He opened the back door for her, a smile on his lips.

“You, too.” Andy wasn’t looking at him, though. She was peering inside the car, captured by a penetrating stare. She slid in to the interior, focused on Miranda. “Hello.” She stopped herself from saying anything else, something she’d worked on as a newspaper reporter once she began interviewing people. It was hard for her not to break the silence, but she’d learned that most people tended to fill it.

“Hello, Andrea.” Miranda had a small smile on her face. “Is this a good time for you?”

“Yes.” She hesitated, finding it hard to believe that Miranda had nothing better to do. After all, she’d just spend the last two weeks in court. “How are you?”

A soft look was directed Andy’s way, leaving her breathless. “Much better now that the trial is concluded. It was an utter waste of my time, although your entertaining sketches helped me not to lose my mind.”

“Well, um,” Andy paused, not sure how to respond. “I’m glad you liked them?” She winced as she heard the question in her remark.

Miranda chuckled. “Yes, I did. In fact, it made me wonder what other talents you kept hidden during all those months you worked for me. For example, you’ve turned into a passable writer.”

Feeling her eyes widen, Andy sucked in a breath. “That’s kind of you to say. Thank you, Miranda.”

“It was unfortunate, although not unexpected, that the _Mirror_ turned digital. Print media is an antiquated industry. We’re all feeling the threat of technology. That coupled with people who are always on the go, their attention spans shortened by their need for instant gratification.” Miranda shrugged. “Even my girls seem unwilling to read for more than a few minutes at a time.”

“I guess I’m part of a dying breed. I prefer to have a hard copy in my hands instead of a tablet.” Andy looked down at her lap, her hands resting on top of her sketchpad.

“May I see?” Miranda asked, gesturing toward it.

“Oh, um, yeah. Sure.” Andy cleared her throat, as she handed over the drawings. She stared out the window, willing herself not to stare at the editor. Andy was afraid to see her reaction to the drawings. It was too easy to imagine the well-known pursing of lips, signifying her disapproval.

“Did you send in all of them or choose a small selection to submit for publication?”

Andy looked over at Miranda. “I chose them.” Blue eyes met hers, and Andy held back a gasp when she noticed how dark they appeared.

“You have a discerning eye. Your attention to detail is what sets these sketches apart. For those who know where to look, you reveal so much.” She tapped the pad with her index finger. “For example, these drawings of me.”

Andy folded into herself, and she felt her face heat up. This was it. Miranda was going to mock her. She was going to point out how inept Andy was with capturing court events, or really at memorializing anything. A soft sigh interrupted Andy’s thoughts. Biting her lower lip, she glanced up through her eyelashes, daring to peek at the editor. Andy didn’t recognize the expression on Miranda’s face, but it made her feel as if she were sipping hot cocoa while watching snow fall outside. She unfurled into the comfort of the car’s leather seat, releasing her insecurities, and tilted her head in question. A warm hand landed on her knee, as Miranda began to speak.

“I told you once that you were able to see beyond what others wanted and choose what was the best course of action. These drawings reflect that ability. Is there bias in them? Yes. Of course. But not without reason. I saw it in your drawings for other trials, too. You control the narrative without saying a word. Hold on to these pictures, Andrea. Some day in the not-too-distant future, others will want to buy them. You are witnessing some of the most notorious court proceedings, capturing the salient points of them, and providing commentary, to boot.”

“I don’t know what to say, Miranda. I think you give me too much credit.” Andy’s eyes blurred, and she wiped away the wetness. Miranda’s words meant so much. They validated Andy’s work. She was certain that Miranda would never say something she didn’t mean. It’s why people across the industry trusted Miranda’s word.

Andy eeped when Miranda squeezed her knee. “Not at all. I am very interested to know what you were thinking when you sketched this one,” she said, pointing to a sketch of Miranda sitting at trial, a pensive look on her face.

It was one of the sketches Andy didn’t submit. She drew it early in the trial. Miranda seemed far away at that moment, and Andy felt compelled to draw her. An air of solemnity pervaded the scene, swirling grays and blues enveloping Miranda.

“You seemed sad. Tired—not so much in a physical sense, but perhaps mentally or emotionally. Resolved. I could see that you were ready to fight Stephen and put that relationship behind you.”

Miranda hummed. Before she could say anything, the car stopped. “I hope you don’t mind if we stop for a bite to eat. I’m famished.”

“Oh, not at all.”

“Good.” Miranda exited the car and surprised Andy by extending a hand to her. After a small pause, Andy grasped it and climbed out of the car. Miranda tucked Andy’s hand into the crook of her elbow, and they walked into a nondescript building.

“Where are we?”

“The Meatpacking District. This is an exclusive members-only restaurant a dear friend of mine opened a few months ago.”

A tall, thin man approached them at a brisk pace, his arms extended.

“Stefano, thank you for having us.”

“Miranda, you are always welcome here,” he answered, leaning in to deliver a kiss next to each cheek before turning his attention to Andy. “And who is this lovely lady?”

“Andrea, this is Stefano, one of the best chefs in the city and a childhood friend. He’s like the younger brother I never wanted.” She chuckled at the look of outrage that crossed his face. “Stefano, Andrea is the courtroom sketch artist I mentioned.”

Stefano’s eyes widened, a boyish grin transforming his face. “This is your Andrea?” he asked before redirecting his gaze to Andy. “I’ve been following you for months. Your drawings are extraordinary. I am honored to meet you.” He bowed low before Andy, who felt her face flush with the attention.

Andy noticed some of the nearby patrons glancing their way, no doubt their attention drawn by Stefano’s exuberant reaction. He wore a ten-button executive white chef coat with black trim, his name embroidered on his breast pocket, and a black toque. With his jet-black hair, heavy dark eyes, and muscular build, he attracted many interested eyes, but Andy found her eyes returning to the woman beside her.

“Thank you. You’re too kind.” Andy slipped her hand from Miranda’s elbow and pulled on her fingers, struggling to keep his gaze. She knew her drawings were good, but being the focus of anyone’s attention while with Miranda was nerve-wracking. She felt pressure on her lower back, and warmth stole through her when she realized it was Miranda’s hand. She struggled not to sink into the subtle support.

“And well-deserved,” Miranda murmured. “Shall we?”

“Of course. Please come this way.” Stefano swept his hand out before them.

They sat in a cozy booth toward the back, the dark wood of the table and comfortable leather seats screaming opulence. Across from them crackled a roaring fire in a gigantic stone hearth. A blood-red velvet curtain separated them from the adjoining table, creating privacy and a feeling of intimacy. Andy didn’t see a menu, but she didn’t dare ask.

The sommelier came to their table with two glasses of prosecco, the dry, sparkling white wine aperitif a perfect beginning to their meal. After taking a sip and humming her approval, Andy glanced at Miranda, surprised to find her staring. Andy held her breath, allowing herself to study the editor. Her eyes were shadowed, the low lighting adding to the ambiance but robbing Andy of the crystal-clear eyes she’d memorized long ago.

“That sketch we were discussing in the car. You told me what you saw when you drew me. Now let me tell you what I saw.”

Miranda leaned forward and placed her hand on Andy’s hand. Andy gasped. Since day one of knowing Miranda, Andy was instructed never to touch Miranda. She assumed it had to do with the editor not liking to be touched. Over her brief tenure as junior assistant, Andy saw time and again how others were careful not to crowd Miranda. Even those Miranda knew well would lean in for air kisses, not quite touching her. Yet Miranda was touching Andy—had done so several times. Andy didn’t know what to make of how tactile she was acting. Each touch made Andy’s heart race.

Miranda’s hand was soft, her palm warm over the back of Andy’s hand. Andy resisted the urge to flip over her hand, pushing away all erotic thoughts of their palms rubbing together were she to take such action. It led to other thoughts, other urges, other fantasies that she dared not entertain while in the same room as Miranda. Andy sipped from her glass, using it as a shield while she fought to contain her emotions. Miranda’s smooth voice caught Andy’s attention once more.

“You used cool colors to portray the courtroom, but warm colors for my face, my clothes, even the air surrounding me. My eyes reflected deep thought, my lips determination, my forehead serenity, and my body language acceptance. Whenever you sketched Stephen, his features were always washed out, sharp, and cold, whereas your drawings of me were always warm, soft, and open. That drawing, though, told me more. It told me you were really seeing me. You understood what I was feeling. It reminded me how you always did see me, even when I was unkind to you.”

Miranda squeezed Andy’s hand before pulling back enough to slot their fingers together, causing Andy to shudder. She stared at their joined hands, mesmerized as Miranda rubbed the vee between Andy’s thumb and forefinger with her thumb. She whispered, “And I saw more, Andrea. I saw how much you care for me, even after all this time, even after I rejected your attempts to help me when my world was falling apart in Paris, even after I dared to voice such egocentric hubris as to compare you to me. Every one of your drawings shouted to me that you still care, and I cannot walk away without attempting to claim that affection and admitting my own feelings for you.”

“Holy shit,” Andy whispered, heat rushing to her cheeks when she realized what she said out loud. She glanced over to find Miranda smirking at her. “You have feelings for me?”

“I do. I would like to explore them with you. Are you willing?”

“Yes.” Andy smiled so widely her cheeks hurt. A moment later she nearly wept with joy when Miranda smiled. It transformed her face, lit her up from within, and Andy’s fingers itched to reduce the vision to paper. The promise of more opportunities stopped Andy from whipping out a pen and drawing on the cloth napkin. She settled for soaking in being on the receiving end of that wondrous smile, watching as Miranda’s eyes softened, a tender look crossing her visage as their gazes held.

A server arrived with roasted scallops and a matching wine, other plates and wine pairings arriving as soon as they finished the food before them. Andy loved everything the chef sent, and she relaxed into the experience, grateful to be spending this time with Miranda. Andy felt sadness steal through her while they drank their cognac, the digestif coating her tongue and warming her belly. She stared at the fire, not wanting the evening to end.

“What are your plans for the holidays, Andrea? Do you celebrate Christmas?”

“I do. I’m going back to Ohio next Thursday to visit my family, but I’ll return on December 30th to ring in the New Year here.” Andy fiddled with the stem of her glass. “I realize you are a busy woman, but do you think we can see each other before I leave?”

“I would like that. In fact, if you don’t mind sharing me, I’d love for you to come to my home for dinner with me and the girls on Sunday. They admire your drawings, and they miss talking to you.”

Andy’s eyebrows rose. “I’d love to come over. I’m surprised your daughters remember me. It’s been a while.”

“You were nicer to them than most of my other assistants, even after they tricked you into climbing the stairs the first time you delivered the Book.”

A laugh burbled up, as Andy remembered how terrifying those moments were and how unpleasant the fallout was. Time had helped her to reassess that disaster and so many other moments she experienced while working for Miranda. She could see the humorous aspects of it, the naivety she wore like a cloak. “Well, after I got them the _Harry Potter_ manuscript, they seemed to tolerate my presence. That, and I questioned everything they said to me instead of blindly trusting them.”

Once out of the restaurant, Miranda insisted she drop Andy off at her apartment. They sat during the car ride in silence, their hands clasped loosely between them. Andy felt giddy, her mind whirling as she tried to grasp all that happened. Feeling the car stop, Andy turned toward Miranda. “Thank you for a wonderful evening. I’m looking forward to Sunday.”

“As am I.”

Although she wanted nothing more than to lean forward and kiss Miranda, Andy recognized the large risk Miranda had already taken by revealing her feelings. She would wait for Miranda to initiate any further intimacies between them. The last thing she wanted was to risk her chance of spending more time with Miranda. She squeezed Miranda’s hand before letting go. “Good night, Miranda.”

“Good night, Andrea.”

Andy climbed the apartment stairs and waved at Miranda, even though she couldn’t see her through the tinted windows, before moving inside the building. A smile split her face as she made her way to her apartment. As soon as she walked inside, she saw Lily on the couch, wine glass in hand.

“You look like you had a good day.”

“I did. The trial ended, Miranda took me to dinner, and I’m seeing her again on Sunday.” Before Lily could utter a word, Andy walked toward her room. “I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow. Now I just want to live in this haze of pure bliss and fall asleep remembering her smile.”

She closed her bedroom door and fell on her bed. She was astounded by all that happened. Before she went to sleep, she sent a text to Miranda, telling her how much she enjoyed dinner. The reply text made Andy feel on top of the world.

It said, “That was the first of many meals we will share. And I look forward to sharing other firsts with you. Sleep well.”


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 5

Sunday came with a layer of snow, and Andy groused while tromping around Manhattan, trying not to slip. She supposed if she were sitting in her home, wrapped in a blanket and sipping a hot beverage, she might view the snow as beautiful, a perfect reminder of the ensuing holiday. Instead Andy was doing errands, which included finding the perfect gifts for Caroline and Cassidy Priestly. _At least I know what to get._ Entering a bookstore, Andy walked toward the back where a large display of _Harry Potter_ merchandise was showcased. Once she purchased their gifts, Andy returned home to wrap the gifts and get ready for her dinner date at the Priestly residence.

As soon as she opened the apartment door, she felt a wave of warmth envelop her. She took off her winter coat, scarf, hat, gloves, and boots before looking around for Lily. She saw her in the kitchen, a mug in her hand as she looked at something on her laptop.

“Hey,” Andy greeted her, sitting down.

“Hey. Did you find what you needed?”

“Yup. I’m going to wrap everything in a few minutes. What are you up to tonight?”

“I’m Doug’s plus one for his company’s holiday party. Wish me luck with getting a good White Elephant gift.”

“Good luck. I’m gonna get ready.”

Rising, Andy took the bags she’d dropped beside her and left, hearing Lily yell after her, “Wear something sexy, but not slutty, since her daughters will be there. And wear something Christmasy, red or green or white or maybe velvety. But not that winter sweater your mom gave you last year. That’s hideous.”

“Thank you,” Andy sing-songed, knowing Lily would keep going. She made quick work of wrapping the gifts before taking a shower. After finishing her ablutions, she looked in her closet for inspiration. She had a few options.

After deliberating, she decided on the winter-blue velvet dress. It had long sleeves and a fitted bodice. Falling to her knees, it wasn’t particularly sexy, but it did show her curves. The color made her eyes pop, and her skin glow. She paired the dress with matching blue velvet shoes.

Once she was ready, she met Lily, who wore a sparkling, silver cocktail dress, in the living room. “You look dazzling,” Andy said with a smile.

“Thank you. That dress looks fantastic on you. Miranda will love it.”

“I hope so. Have fun tonight.” Andy pulled on her coat and got ready to brave the weather.

“You, too. Let me know if you decide to stay over so I won’t worry.”

“As if. This is a dinner. I’ll be ecstatic if we share a kiss.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure she wants to do a lot more. Don’t let your insecurities get the better of you. She’s interested. You’re interested. See where it goes. It might be to her dragon’s lair.” Lily wiggled her eyebrows. They both giggled.

With a wave, Andy was out the door. She caught a cab, not wanting to be late, and before she was quite ready, Andy stood outside Miranda’s townhouse. She took a deep breath to settle her nerves before pressing the doorbell. While she waited, she listened to the bustle of the city that infiltrated the quiet street. The wet swish of snow being pushed by tires sounded behind her. She shivered, as the wind tried to remove her hat. She clamped a hand on her head just as the door opened. Although the person was backlit by the indoor illumination, Andy knew it was Miranda.

“Come in.” Miranda turned aside to allow Andy entrance, closing the door behind her.

Andy followed Miranda further into her home until they stopped near the very table where she used to place the Book each night. “May I take your coat?”

Nodding, Andy shucked off her outerwear and handed everything to Miranda. Once she turned around, Andy got a good look at Miranda’s outfit and grabbed the table to keep from swooning. Heat traveled to her face, embarrassment filling her. She hazarded a glance to determine whether Miranda had seen her Victorian response, only to stall on a flushed face and darkened eyes. “Miranda?”

“You look stunning, Andrea.” Miranda stood with her hands clasped in front of her body, and Andy could see how tight her grip was. Andy watched her breathe in deeply and exhale, and she struggled to move her eyes away before Miranda noticed them stalled on her décolletage.

Miranda wore a beautiful deep-red wool sheath tailored to her body. It showed off her curves without being too form-fitting. She looked elegant and untouchable, and Andy wanted nothing more than to touch her. Or at least stare at her. Being able to stare at her for the last two weeks was a great gift, one she would always treasure, but now she felt bereft, knowing she no longer had that opportunity.

Stepping forward, Andy pulled Miranda into a hug. Although stiff at first, Miranda sank into Andy’s embrace with a sigh and nuzzled the side of Andy’s neck. Andy hummed her delight, tightening her grip around Miranda’s back. After a few moments of indulgence, Andy pulled back enough to place her lips beside Miranda’s ear to whisper, “You’re breathtaking, Miranda.” She felt Miranda shiver and wondered at the effect she was having on the editor. “Thank you for inviting me here.”

With great reluctance, Andy dropped her arms, allowing them to fall to her sides. Miranda surprised her by holding on.

“Darling, please forgive me if I’m overstepping, but…” Miranda paused.

“What?” Andy stared into Miranda’s hooded gaze, wondering how to interpret the flow of emotions crossing her face. Nervous, Andy wet her lower lip before biting it, becoming breathless when she realized Miranda was tracking her movements with a hungry look. “Miranda,” she whispered. It looked like Miranda wanted to kiss her, but Andy feared she was projecting her desires. Andy wound one arm around Miranda’s waist while cupping her cheek. Taking a leap of faith, Andy said, “You’re not overstepping if I want it, too.”

That’s all it took for Miranda to move her hands to either side of Andy’s face and pull her forward. Their eyes connected for one timeless moment before Miranda brushed her lips against Andy’s mouth once, twice. Andy couldn’t hold back a low, long moan, and as her lips parted, Miranda took Andy’s lower lip between her teeth and nibbled with such gentle attention, Andy felt her body flush. She was having a hard time processing the fact that Miranda was kissing her.

“Andrea,” Miranda’s voice was as gentle as the hands still framing Andy’s face.

It wasn’t until Andy felt Miranda’s thumbs wiping away her tears that she realized she was weeping. She wasn’t sad. Of course she wasn’t sad. How could she be when Miranda was kissing her? Holding her? Showing her that her feelings weren’t unrequited? Andy sipped air, taking a few moments to calm her breathing before attempting to allay the concern shining through Miranda’s bright eyes.

“I’m not upset. Just overwhelmed. I’ve wanted this for so long, Miranda, and I’m so thankful.” Andy smiled, loving the shy look taking over Miranda’s face. “I’ve waited all my life for that kiss,” Andy whispered.

“Oh, darling.”

This time Andy kissed Miranda, focusing on the texture of her lips and the catch in her breath. She loved the whimper that escaped Miranda’s mouth when she moved her lips around the slope of Miranda’s jaw to her ear, where Andy stalled to suck on the lobe before apply the barest pressure with her teeth. The resulting hiss seemed to travel from Miranda’s mouth to Andy’s sex, and Andy wanted nothing more than to elicit more sensual sounds. Before she could, though, she heard a high-pitched voice calling from upstairs.

“Mom, is Andy here?”

Andy pulled away with reluctance, smoothing down her dress. A quick glance at Miranda showed her patting her hair and touching her lips, a soft look in her eyes. “Yes, Bobbsey. Andrea is here.”

What sounded like an army storming the line was actually two prepubescent girls running down three flights of stairs to get to them. Andy couldn’t help but smile when she saw how excited they were. Amid shouts of “Andy!” and gangly arms wrapping around her, Andy hugged them, laughing at their exuberant welcome.

“You monkeys! Look how much you’ve grown.” She pulled back to make a show of inspecting them. “So tall!”

“Soon we’ll be taller than Mom.”

“Well, when she doesn’t have high heels on.”

“Not too soon, Bobbseys.”

“But at least we’ll be able to hang more Christmas ornaments on the tree.”

“Yeah, we won’t even have to use a step-ladder.”

“Just how tall do you think you’re going to get?” Andy asked. “Planning to try out for the basketball team?”

“I’m horrible at basketball,” Caroline scoffed. “Cass is good at it, though.”

“But basketball isn’t a big sport at school. Maybe you’d like lacrosse, Caro,” Cassidy said.

In her peripheral vision, Andy saw Miranda shudder. Shaking her head, Andy joked, “I think that might scar your mother. Maybe a different sport?”

“I like running,” Cassidy admitted, her voice soft.

“Me, too. I run in Central Park. There are some great routes of varying distances and difficulty levels. Maybe when it gets warmer, if you want and your mom is okay with it, we can run together.” Andy gauged the expression on Miranda’s face, and when she saw the small upturn of her lips, took it as a good sign.

“Thanks, Andy. That sounds fun.”

“You’re welcome, Cass.”

They made their way into the parlor, both girls taking a large pillow from the corner and flopping down on them. The gas fireplace was on, warming the room, and the lights were turned low. Andy sat on the Chesterfield-style sofa, settling into the corner and crossing one leg over the other. Its high, rolled arms and back and deep diamond tufts modernized the sofa, while the nailhead trim reflected the classic style. The pearl color of the sofa complemented the dark wooden floors and slate gray side chairs. She gazed around the room, curious to see what was exhibited in a room that she guessed was used for business-related gatherings. The room was formal and to some extent impersonal. The modern paintings used dark, bold colors to pull together the furniture pieces. In one corner on a high square table sat a well-known sculpture. Andy gasped.

“Is that Giacometti?” Andy jumped up and made her way to the glass display to get a closer look.

“Yes. I met him when I was fresh out of high school. A brilliant man. Many have tried to emulate his style, but few have succeeded.”

Andy tilted her head, studying the bronze stick figure. The elongated form, her shoulders pulled back, seemed to challenge the world to try and shove her down.  

“She’s gorgeous.” Andy gestured toward the sculpture while glancing at Miranda. “She reminds me of you. That strength and fortitude she reflects through her stance.” Seeing Miranda’s eyes soften made Andy’s heart speed up. She took a deep breath to calm herself before retaking her seat on the sofa. Turning toward Caroline, Andy asked her, “So, if you aren’t into basketball, what do you like?”

“Do you mean for exercise?”

Andy hummed. “Exercise or whatever you like to do in your spare time.”

Miranda handed her a glass of red wine, and Andy smiled her thanks before refocusing on Caroline.

“I like to ice skate, and I’m starting to like playing the piano now that I’m good enough to play songs I hear on the radio.”

“That’s great. Maybe you can play me a song sometime. I used to play the clarinet, but I didn’t keep up with it once I went to college.”

“It doesn’t surprise me that you are musical. Someone gifted in the arts tends to express it in various ways,” Miranda said. Hearing her cell phone chime, Miranda rose. “Let me check on dinner.”

Their dinner was simple and tasty—a prime rib roast, vegetables, and salad. Andy felt like she was eating a holiday dinner. Since this was the last time she’d see them before the holidays arrived, she supposed that was true. Once dinner was over they moved to the upstairs family room. In contrast to the downstairs parlor, this room was warm and cozy with a navy overstuffed couch, matching chairs, and thick Berber area rug.

Miranda lit the fireplace, and after a few minutes, the wood began popping as it burned.

“Please sit wherever you’d like, Andrea, while I make us some coffee.”

Andy watched her stroll over to a small wet bar to make the beverage.

“Water, Bobbseys?”

“Yes, please. I’ll get it,” Caroline said, jumping up and joining her mother. “Cass, do you want one?” When she nodded, Caroline filled two glasses and made her way over to her sister.

Contentment stole over Andy. She gazed at the decorated Christmas tree in the corner of the room. The white lights were on, and she could see several homemade ornaments interspersed with more expensive ones. She liked how not everything was designer or expensive. Their dog, Patricia, walked over to Andy, her tail thumping against Andy’s leg as she patted her. After a few more pats, Patricia went to her doggie bed and settled down with a big sigh. Andy wondered where the dog had been all evening.

“We place her in her crate until after dinner,” Miranda offered. “Not that she begs, but it’s good practice.” Miranda brought over their coffee and sat next to Andy on the couch. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said, her voice soft.

“I am, too.” Andy sipped her coffee, listening to the twins talk about some of the activities they wanted to do over break.

“I take a few days off during their break to spend with them. In no time at all they’ll want to spend all their spare time with their friends.”

Sliding her hand across the couch, Andy squeezed Miranda’s arm. They shared a smile. She looked over at the girls and saw them watching. Andy dropped her arm and clapped her hands. “So, I have presents for you.”

The girls cheered with delight.

“Let me go grab them.”

Andy made her way to the coat closet on the first floor where she’d left the bag of gifts. Returning to the family room, she reclaimed her place on the sofa. Andy looked to Miranda for permission to give out the gifts, and when she nodded, Andy reached in the bag.

“Caroline, this one’s for you,” Andy said, handing it over, “and Cassidy, this is yours.”

She kept Miranda’s gift in the bag, wanting to see their reactions before focusing on the editor.

“Andy, this is great!” Caroline squealed. Andy got her a _Harry Potter_ horcrux bookmark collection. All seven bookmarks were in the shape of a different horcrux.

“Oh, wow!” Cassidy said, as she stared at the gift Andy gave her. It was a time turner in a display case with a miniature hourglass and inner rings that rotated, similar to the one Hermione used in her third year at Hogwarts.

Both girls jumped up and engulfed Andy in a hug. She laughed, hugging them back. “I’m glad you like the presents. I was afraid you might have grown out of _Harry Potter_.”

“No way. We can’t wait until the next movie comes out.”

“Me, too,” Andy agreed. As the twins settled back in their seats, gifts in hand, Andy turned to Miranda. “I have something for you, too.” Andy reached in the bag and pulled out the gift. “I hope you like it.” Andy watched Miranda open the gift, butterflies wreaking havoc in her belly. She couldn’t afford to get Miranda anything expensive, so she opted to make her gift.

“Oh, Andrea. This is priceless.” Miranda’s eyes glistened, but their brightness paled in comparison to her smile. It made Andy tremble.

The girls got up to see what Miranda held, oohing and aahing once they were leaning against their mom. Andy had drawn the girls, both sitting at a table with a partly-finished puzzle between them. Andy made sure to include their subtle differences—Caroline’s extra dusting of freckles and Cassidy’s redder hair—while maintaining their identical features. The completed part of the puzzle showed their mother’s face, her blue eyes blazing and head tilted, as well as the left bottom of the puzzle where the word, “Happy” appeared with the partially completed “Holidays” next to it. On the bottom right she’d signed her name and noted the year. Andy had even memorialized Patricia by drawing her head resting on Caroline’s knee.

Miranda placed it on the coffee table in front of them before reaching over and drawing Andy in for a hug.

Pleasure swept through Andy at the realization that she’d made Miranda happy with the gift. “I’m so glad you like it,” Andy whispered.

“I love it, Andrea. It’s the most thoughtful gift I’ve ever received. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Andy smiled brightly as she drew back.

“Andy, we have something for you,” Caroline said. She brought over a large box, and Andy pulled away from Miranda’s arms so that the present could be placed on her lap. Her eyes widened at the size and weight. “You’re gonna love it,” Caroline said with confidence.

“I’m sure you’re right.” Andy grinned before ripping the paper away to reveal a suitcase-sized wooden box. She opened it and found colored pencils, charcoal, markers, oil paints, and various paintbrushes. Andy felt her eyes widen. She couldn’t wait to try them out. Underneath the box were two large pads of sketch paper, the quality much better than what she used. She wondered whether it would make a difference with her drawings. Under that was a leather portfolio with designated areas to store drawing tools and paper. It was perfect. All of it. The leather was a fine brushed brandy color with her initials embossed on the top.

Taking a minute to gather herself, Andy looked up while blinking several times. She didn’t want to cry, but she was blown away by the thought placed into the gifts. In a hushed voice, Andy said, “Thank you. These are magnificent. I can assure you I’ll make good use of them.” She sniffled, swiping at her eyes. “I love them.”

“We knew you would. You’re really good at drawing,” Cassidy said.

“Yeah. We always look for your stuff online,” Caroline added.

Andy caught Miranda rolling her eyes, a fond look in her eyes, and she giggled at Caroline’s use of the catchall word. Andy touched each object in the case, her mind already envisioning future projects. Her fingers itched to draw, but she resisted. After one last graze of her fingers over each object, Andy closed the case and set it on the floor with her other gifts. She smiled at each Priestly before saying, “I’m looking forward to using those. They’re perfect.”

They sat in front of the fire, sipping their beverages and enjoying each other’s company. Sometimes one would make a comment that would spur a conversation, but they shared silences, too. Andy didn’t feel as if she were an intruder. She felt comfortable. Best of all, once she and Miranda finished their coffee, Miranda turned on some Christmas music and cuddled into Andy’s side. She never would have believed that Miranda was demonstrative. Yet she seemed content to wrap her arms around Andy’s waist and lay her head on her shoulder, a warm throw blanket pulled over their legs.

Warm lips on her collarbone roused Andy. She must have dozed off. A tongue pressed at the hollow of her throat before lips sucked on the bone, ripping a whimper from Andy as her eyes fluttered open.

“There’s my sleeping beauty,” Miranda murmured. She had a soft smile on her face, which melted Andy into a pile of goo. “The girls went to bed. You’re welcome to stay. There’s a guest room,” Miranda said, licking the column of Andy’s throat, “and there’s my bedroom,” she added, sucking behind Andy’s ear before tonguing the ear canal. “I’m sure you can guess what my preference is,” she whispered, nipping at Andy’s earlobe, “but we can take this at whatever pace you want.”

Sweeping a lock of hair from Miranda’s face, Andy studied her face. She whispered, “I’ve been in love with you for so long. I’m finding it hard to believe that you want me, and I’m not inclined to throw away any opportunity to touch you.”

Miranda sat up, gazing at Andy with a serious expression before taking Andy’s hands and squeezing them. “Andrea, my feelings for you are not new. What we do or don’t do tonight will not change the fact that I intend to spend more time with you. Much more. Please don’t feel that this is a one-time opportunity. You know I’m a planner. It’s part of being effective at _Runway_. We plan months ahead of time, painstakingly breaking down each page for the magazine to the most minute detail. That carries over into my personal life. And although I can be impulsive, when it comes to important decisions, it’s rare.” She cupped Andy’s cheek. “You might as well have signed your name on my heart like you would on your finest drawings, for you’ve made it yours. Whether we make love tonight or some other time, I know it will be perfect.”

Andy sat, hearing her heart pound as Miranda’s words washed over her. The thought of touching Miranda and feeling her touch was exhilarating. She wanted it, and she refused to wait.

“Take me to bed, Miranda.”

The gasp out of Miranda’s mouth made Andy smile. She raised an eyebrow and cocked her head. “I have another gift for you to unwrap.”

Miranda’s sputtered out a laugh, her shocked expression morphing into a wolfish smile. “You do give the best gifts.”  She rose, extending a hand to Andy.

While Miranda banked the fire, Andy turned off the lights. They met at the door, sharing a smile as their hands interlaced as if they’d done so for years. They walked up a flight of stairs and entered the last door on the left. It opened up to a large bedroom where the bed captured Andy’s attention. It was large—Andy guessed it was a king-sized mattress. The autumnal patterned pillows complemented the burnt orange color of the comforter. The entire room exuded comfort and warmth.

In front of the bed was a padded bench, and to the left two tan high-back chairs were separated by a round walnut table on which a small bouquet of white lilies sat. The gorgeous wood grain called for Andy’s fingers to trace it, but tracing Miranda’s skin would take precedence. On the other side of the room a tall matching armoire and dresser lined the wall. She could see through an entryway to an enormous en suite. A hand on her lower back prompted Andy to turn toward Miranda.

“Your room is beautiful.”

“Thank you. It looks all the better with you in it.”

“Sweet-talker.”

“Not at all. When have I ever said something I didn’t mean?”

Smiling, Andy leaned in to kiss Miranda. Unlike the earlier kisses they shared, this one promised much more. She swallowed Miranda’s moan and pulled her closer by her hips before allowing her tongue to taste Miranda’s lips and delve between them. Andy explored Miranda’s mouth, taking her time. She shivered as Miranda ran her hands up her back and rested them between Andy’s shoulder blades. Andy explored Miranda’s sides, allowing her thumbs to run over Miranda’s ribs while they indulged in deep kisses, their tongues rubbing in a slow, sinful motion. She could feel Miranda trembling in her arms, and it made Andy feel powerful.

“Let me unwrap you, darling.” Miranda grasped the zipper on Andy’s dress and pulled the tab.  

Andy cool feel each inch as air hit her revealed skin. Goosebumps erupted, and Andy hummed when she felt Miranda trace her spine with her fingers. Andy stepped back, allowing the dress to pool around her feet before stepping out. She wore a lacy navy-blue set of lingerie. The demi-cup bra didn’t leave much to the imagination. Nor did the thong. She kicked off her shoes and turned her eyes toward Miranda.

“May I?” Andy asked, her eyes raking over Miranda’s body. She could see the outline of hard peaks and wanted nothing more than to take them in her mouth. When Miranda nodded, Andy stepped forward once more and turned Miranda so she could reach the zipper. She held her breath while pulling the tab down, leaning in to deliver butterfly kisses as more skin was revealed. Miranda’s red silk lingerie made Andy breathless, the color contrasting with her flawless, alabaster skin.

They lay down facing each other, hands exploring as they kissed. Andy knew she would never be the same. Miranda tasted like her future, and she was addicted. As she explored Miranda’s mouth with singular intent, Andy recognized the feeling of rightness that pervaded her being.

Breaking their kiss, Miranda maneuvered Andy on to her back and removed Andy’s bra. The way she sat on her haunches and gazed at her made Andy self-conscious, but Miranda’s smile was so genuine she felt reassured. A manicured hand ran down Andy’s torso, sweeping over her hip and playing with her panty line. “You’re exquisite. I want you so much.”

The words enflamed Andy. She sat up, pulling Miranda in for a tight hug. “I’m yours.”

She could feel Miranda’s thighs on either side of her hips, and the closeness was exhilarating. She removed Miranda’s bra and pulled her into another hug. She loved how Miranda’s breasts rubbed against hers, and Andy took pleasure running her hands over Miranda’s back, exploring every dip and curve. Miranda’s hands slipped around her shoulders, sinking into Andy’s hair. Andy groaned, her eyes closing at the feel of nails lightly scratching her scalp.

When Miranda tipped her pelvis forward and rocked against her, Andy slipped a hand inside the back of Miranda’s panties and pulled her forward as much as possible, kneading her backside. She ducked to envelop a pointed peak with her mouth, already addicted to the mewling noises Miranda emitted as she sucked on a nipple, hollowing out her cheeks and lashing it with her tongue.

“Andrea. Oh, Andrea.”

Switching to the other breast, Andy kept one hand on Miranda’s buttock, massaging a cheek while she used her other hand to squeeze and pull at the other nipple. It was red and swollen and sensitive and Miranda’s breathing was coming in faster bursts as her body moved against her.

“Oh, darling. I need…I need…”

“I know,” Andy murmured, guiding Miranda on her back and pulling down her panties.

Miranda kicked them off while reaching over to remove Andy’s thong. Once the last barriers were removed, Andy stretched out on top of her, resting on her elbows. Miranda’s eyes were so dark only a small rim of blue remained. When Miranda opened her legs for Andy to rest between them, Andy began moving against her, taking care not to crush her.

“I won’t break, darling.” Miranda wrapped her arms around Andy’s waist, pressing at the small of her back each time Andy thrust against her.

Andy found a rhythm that worked for them, their clitorises rubbing against each other as she rocked against Miranda. Andy felt as if she were on fire, her body singing. She could feel her body tightening, readying for release. She wanted to kiss Miranda, but her movements made that too much of a challenge. Andy whined, moving one leg to the outside of Miranda’s thigh and riding it. She moved her other knee against Miranda’s core, gratified to hear her raspy moan.

Balancing on one arm, Andy circled Miranda’s bundle of nerves with her thumb, brushing it every few strokes. That’s all it took for Miranda to cry out, her body arching into Andy with enough force to push Andy into her own climax.

They moved together with jerky movements, and when Andy began to slow down, she felt Miranda’s fingers move to her weeping opening. When she felt Miranda hesitate, Andy said, “Please. I want to feel you inside of me.”

A moment later, Andy felt Miranda enter her. “Oohhhh.” Andy thrust against Miranda, widening her legs to give her more room to maneuver. She could feel the burn, and her focus narrowed to how good it felt to be filled by Miranda. She pushed up onto her hands, her breasts swaying and perspiration beading at the small of her back. She sped up her movements, feeling Miranda prop up her knee to reinforce her thrusts.

When Miranda’s thumb began brushing against her engorged nub, Andy felt as if her body was erupting. She tucked her face into the crook of Miranda’s neck to smother her cries as she came again. She could hear Miranda whispering, but her body was so overloaded she couldn’t make sense of anything. Andy sighed, her body slowing as the waves of ecstasy lessened to a pleasant buzzing of her nerve endings. She went to move to Miranda’s side, but Miranda held her with a strong grip.

“Not yet. Let me feel you against me.” With those words, Andy stilled, sinking into Miranda. She felt Miranda remove her fingers, and again Andy tried to move away. “No, no. Stay a little longer, darling.” As their bodies calmed, lethargy swept through Andy, and she realized she was becoming chilled. As if hearing her thoughts, Miranda said, “Let’s get under the covers.”

Andy cuddled against Miranda under the thick comforter, mumbling, “I want to do so much more.”

“And you shall, but for now, let’s rest.”

Soft lips delivered a chaste kiss to her forehead, gentle fingers combed through her hair, and a warm body curled around her. Andy was in heaven. “Love you,” Andy whispered. She tried to stay awake, but it was a losing battle. And although Miranda whispered something back, Andy was unable to stay awake long enough to comprehend what it was.

***

The first thing Andy noticed when she awoke was how warm she was. She was used to wearing wool socks and fleece pajamas during the winter months, but this morning she realized pretty quickly that she was nude. Looking around the room, barely lit by the winter’s morning light, Andy noticed that at some point Miranda must have turned off the lights. She glanced down to find the source of her warmth: a human blanket. Miranda was resting on her chest, their legs intertwined. Andy was gratified to see that Miranda hadn’t donned any clothes. She could feel each breath Miranda exhaled, and Andy grinned. She wrapped her arms around the sleeping woman and sighed. This was the best morning of her life.

When she next opened her eyes, the room was much brighter. She lay listening, but she didn’t hear anyone stirring. She heard a light pattering against the window and guessed it was snowing out. Miranda had moved off her, and she lay on her back, her face relaxed. She wanted to touch her. Explore her. Discover her.

_Does she like morning sex? Will she be angry if I wake her? Will she want anything more than what we shared last night?_ There was only one way for her to find out. Andy pulled back the blankets and leaned over to kiss in between Miranda’s breasts. She took her time, tracing the area with light finger strokes before licking tightening peaks several times. She could feel the low rumble of pleasure beneath her lips and knew Miranda was coming back to consciousness. After a few more delicious tastes of now hardened nubs, Andy slid her lips down the middle of Miranda’s torso, stalling to nibble at her bellybutton. She grinned when she heard a long moan and nipped at her belly before veering to the side to taste in between each rib.

Hands sifted through Andy’s disheveled locks, urging her to continue her ministrations. With such tacit approval, Andy moved down the bed, nibbling and sucking on Miranda’s thighs. She could smell Miranda’s arousal, see the proof glistening between her legs. Like the most beautiful flower she ever saw, Miranda’s sex opened for her, and Andy could think of nothing better than feasting on such a bounty. She moved her kisses higher and higher, as Miranda opened her legs in obvious invitation.

“Please, Andrea. I’m burning for you,” Miranda said, her voice filled with need.

Once she heard Miranda’s plea, Andy wasted no time placing Miranda’s legs over her shoulders and taking a long slow lick. Although she’d never done this before, Andy knew what she liked and thought it was a good starting point while she learned Miranda’s body. She sucked on Miranda’s outer lips, pulling on them as Miranda squirmed. Miranda’s excitement coated her chin, and Andy dipped her head to lick some of the viscous fluid from its source.

Miranda bucked, her hands tightening in Andy’s hand. “God. You feel amazing.”

“And you taste amazing,” Andy said.

Licking from Miranda’s opening to her clit, Andy lashed the engorged bundle of nerves each time while holding Miranda’s thighs with a firm grip. She could tell how close Miranda was, and she began licking with stronger strokes. Miranda keened, her body undulating in a hypnotic rhythm. Andy watched with fascination, taking the pulsing bundle of nerves in her mouth and sucking until, with a cry, Miranda came, her body convulsing. Andy placed a hand on her belly, feeling Miranda’s stomach muscles quiver while she rode out her orgasm. Andy delivered several light licks on her clit before cleaning up the proof of Miranda’s pleasure. Miranda flopped back as the tremors abated, her legs sliding from Andy’s shoulders and her flushed chest heaving.

“Come here.” Miranda’s voice was hoarse, and Andy loved that she’d caused it. She crawled up the bed, sinking into open arms. “That was a wonderful way to wake up, darling.”

Andy chuckled, kissing her neck. She wanted to say something sexy, but her mind was consumed with images of Miranda in the throes of passion. Miranda ran her hands over Andy’s back in nonsensical patterns, and Andy hummed, feeling content.

“I knew our paths would cross again.”

If Andy were a dog, her ears would have perked up with those words. As it was, she lay with her arms around Miranda’s waist, waiting for more.

“I don’t necessarily believe in destiny or fate, but I believe in you. I believe in what you make me feel. I knew those feelings wouldn’t have developed only for me to live the rest of my days pining away for what could not be.”

“When things started to fall into place, it almost felt like I was getting a helping hand from, I don’t know, something more powerful than me, something magical.” Andy knew she sounded silly, but she was so grateful for the way things fell into place.

“Synchronicity. Kismet. Providence. Whatever it is, I will always be grateful. It wasn’t until I saw your sketches that I began to hope, truly hope, you might return my feelings.”

Andy leaned on her elbow, hovering over Miranda as their eyes met. She opened her mouth to respond, but Miranda placed a finger over her lips, stalling her.

“Andrea, I don’t know what the future will bring, but I want you in my life. I want you in my girls’ lives. We’ve changed over the last year, and I’ve learned the very painful lesson of what life is like without you in it.” She ran her fingers over Andy’s cheek before cupping her chin. “I love you. I love how you see me. I love how you make me feel. You’ve seen me during some of the worst times of my life. Will you let me show you how good life can be, too? Because I believe with you by my side, these will be the best years of my life.”

Andy felt her eyes watering as Miranda’s words swept over her. “Yes, Miranda. Of course. I want to spend as much time with you as you’ll allow.”

“Well, then. Let’s not waste anymore. I know you’re leaving for Ohio in a few days, but we have time between now and then, and perhaps we can ring in the New Year together?”

“That sounds perfect,” Andy said, turning her head to kiss Miranda’s thumb before jumping out of bed.

“And just where do you think you’re going?” The twinkle in Miranda’s eyes belied her imperious voice.

Jerking her thumb toward the master bathroom behind her, Andy said, “Gotta brush my teeth so I can kiss you.” She was aware of Miranda’s essence still coating her tongue, and although she found the taste addictive, she thought it rude to suppose Miranda would be okay with tasting herself.

“Hmm. Don’t take too long, darling. I haven’t had my breakfast, yet.”

As Miranda’s meaning filtered through Andy’s brain, she ran to the bathroom to freshen up. She caught herself humming a Christmas tune and grinned. Miranda was the best Christmas gift she’d ever received, and she would cherish her, always.


	7. Chapter 7

Epilogue

Andy looked in the mirror while securing the emerald drop earrings in place. She fluffed her bangs and straightened her shoulders before nodding at herself. _Ready._ She delivered a fake smile, but it became real when she saw Miranda appear at her elbow.

“You look lovely, darling.”

Sighing as Miranda wrapped her in a careful hug, arms sliding around her waist, Andy closed her eyes and indulged in a moment of contentment. She turned in Miranda’s arms and ran her fingers down the side of her throat, tracing her collarbones before stopping over her heart. She gazed into blue eyes she knew so well. “I love you.”

Miranda’s full smile and crinkling eyes made Andy’s heart speed up. After five years together, Andy was not surprised that Miranda affected her so strongly. The woman was a force of nature, and Andy learned that when she loved, she did so with all her heart and soul.

“I love you, and I’m proud of you. You’re the youngest recipient of the Sigma Delta Chi Award for your drawings and the first to receive two awards in one year from the SPJ. Not that I’m surprised. You deserve the Fellows of the Society Award for your series, _Female Leaders in the Technological Age_. It led to some of the largest conglomerates overhauling their internal hiring and promotion policies.”  

“Thank you. It means a lot to me, hearing you say that. And even more that you’re sharing these triumphs with me. Your support has made all the difference.” Andy slipped her hand into Miranda’s and led her toward the bedroom door. “Are Caroline and Cassidy ready?”

“Yes. They’re downstairs.” Miranda stopped Andy before they crossed the threshold. “Although I appreciate the sentiment, you would have earned these awards and all the future accolades I am certain you shall receive even if I weren’t by your side. You traveled this road before I reentered your life. It’s important to me that you recognize how talented you are. I did nothing other than love you.”

Andy cupped Miranda’s cheek. “Don’t you see, Miranda? You changed my life. And you’re right. I was walking down this road of sketching and writing before we reconnected, but it was our interactions at _Runway_ that helped me learn how to work hard and not give up on my dreams. You showed me where the road was. Hell, your hard work created that and so many other roads for women in publishing.” She leaned in to deliver a soft kiss on Miranda’s lips before whispering, “And I don’t want to do this without you by my side.”

They made their way downstairs, and Andy smiled at Cassidy and Caroline when they looked up from their phones. “Are you both ready to go?”

“Yes. The car’s outside,” Cassidy said. She rose from the sofa, her lithe runner’s body highlighted by the navy YSL summer dress.

Caroline rose a moment later to join them. She wore an eggshell Kate Spade cocktail dress which showed off her muscular legs, honed through years of playing lacrosse. Miranda continued to complain about how barbaric the sport was, yet she never missed a game. “Don’t forget I have a game tomorrow at one.”

“I’ll be there, Caro,” Andy said, reaching for her purse. “I just need to drop by my apartment to get a change of clothes.”

“I don’t know why you don’t just move in already,” Cassidy muttered.

Blinking, Andy straightened up and glanced at Miranda, who wore a pensive expression. Andy had no idea what to say, so she turned toward the door. This wasn’t the first time one of the girls made such a remark, but Miranda hadn’t asked Andy to move in, and she refused to invite herself. It was true she hardly ever slept at the apartment, but she still had many of her belongings there. Andy still paid rent, and Lily had told her several times that she’d be able to find a new roommate without any hassle if Andy did decide to move. A hand on her shoulder stopped Andy from moving toward the front door.

“I was going to do this after the awards ceremony, but I can see that my girls are too impatient to allow it.” Miranda opened her purse and took out a wrapped present. She stared at it for a few moments before she allowed her gaze to rise, and her face looked solemn when their eyes connected. “For you.”

Andy took the gift, noticing how her hand shook. She took a deep breath before tearing open the paper. Inside was a small ornate ebony-colored box, similar in size to a jewelry box, but larger than a ring box. Andy chastised herself for feeling a swooping sense of disappointment. She doubted Miranda would ever want to remarry, and Andy had made peace with that realization long ago. She opened it and gasped.

Inside was a charm bracelet. She lifted it to get a better look at the charms. A quill, a typewriter, an open book with a pen on top, a Prada shoe, two little girls holding hands, a key with a small diamond, and a heart with the words “Marry Me” engraved on it. Andy started to tremble, as her eyes filled with tears. She looked up to find three pairs of blue eyes trained on her. “Is this what I think it is?” she whispered.

Miranda got down on one knee, a ring in her hand, extended toward Andy in supplication. She heard Cassidy and Caroline gasp and knew they were as astonished as she was. Andy placed a hand on her heart, feeling it beat like a drum.

“We talked about this long ago, how we felt we were meant to be in each other’s lives. I’m not one to voice my feelings, but I had hoped I’d shown you how happy you’ve made me. Then I realized, with some help from my outspoken girls, that maybe you didn’t know. That’s my fault. I should have asked you to move in years ago, as I should have proclaimed to the world how grateful I am to have you sharing your life with me. Andrea, please marry me. Stand next to me. Live with me. Allow everyone to see with no uncertainty that we are together now and always.”

Andy stared at the magnificent woman before kneeling in front of her. “Yes, Miranda. I’ll marry you.” Her breath caught when Miranda’s face broke into a wide, relieved smile. A moment later Andy was swept into a passionate, affirming kiss, as hands thumped her on the shoulders. Her mind scrabbled to make sense of the accolades Caroline and Cassidy were shouting, too consumed by the thorough kiss she was receiving. She broke away, giggling, before extending her left hand and fluttering her fingers. Miranda slid the engagement ring on her finger, and they both rose.

“It’s gorgeous.” Andy tilted her head from side to side, studying how the light reflected off the large diamond. “I love it. She pulled the charm bracelet from its box and handed it to Miranda. “Please put this on me?” Once in place, Andy took a few moments to appreciate it. “Well, now that I’m all dolled up, it’s time to go.”

“Not so fast,” Miranda said. She stepped forward and used her thumb to wipe away some lipstick before applying a fresh coat to Andy’s tingling lips. “Perfect.”

They smiled at each other.

Andy looked toward the girls and shared a wide grin with them.

Looking around the hallway, Andy felt as if she were seeing it for the first time, even as she felt its familiarity hug her like a favorite blanket. That was the key, she realized. Everything was the same, and yet everything was new. It was her perspective that was different. Maybe that’s what made her a good artist—how she saw things and how she helped others to see. This time, though, Miranda was the artist. She was the one to infuse color into Andy’s world with her willingness to share all of herself.

Opening the door, Andy took a deep breath and exhaled. She couldn’t wait to see what came next.


End file.
